


The Next Best Thing

by CynicalRainbows



Series: The Next Best Thing [2]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: AU, Childhood Friends, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 106,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalRainbows/pseuds/CynicalRainbows
Summary: Silly drabble modern AU in which Cathy is orphaned and sent to live with her godmother because I will never not be in need of fluff.
Series: The Next Best Thing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738228
Comments: 343
Kudos: 418





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, I am using a trope that has been done a million times. Will continue if people want.

They pack her clothes for her but she packs her own books, into the hard shiney holiday suitcase with wheels. They don’t all fit, the rest are stacked in piles in crumpled plastic bags that she sneaks from the kitchen.

(Is it her kitchen now that her parents are gone? She knows she can’t stay there by herself- she’s seven, not stupid- but when she is told the house will be sold, she feels an empty hole open in her chest. She’d imagined it would be left, preserved and intact, for her to return to when she’d grown up. Instead, it’s divided up into pieces and seeing the once familiar pieces of furniture out of their usual surroundings makes them different, as if they’re not really the same anymore. Her own bed, the big squashy armchair for reading bedtime stories, when set outside on the curb for the van, become just pieces of furniture. Their familiar safe feeling has leaked out.)

They tell her off for packing her books in her good suitcase- apparently the suitcase is meant to be for clothes- but she doesn’t care. When they suggest she just pick out one or two books to take with her and leave the rest since she’s read them all already anyway, she’s suddenly afraid- it’s like they’ve suggested she choose a finger or toe to leave behind and the fact that they’re looking at her as if they’ve what they’ve suggested makes sense is scary. 

She offers to leave her clothes behind instead, and they laugh like she’s joking.

When she won’t choose, they choose for her and the rest of the books are left with the furniture. Parents, home and now her most special things have been peeled away from her and she feels smaller as she slides resignedly into the car and buckles the seatbelt.

She tells herself she won’t cry but she does.

*

Her godmother has been Catalina for as long as she can remember, never anything else, not in birthday cards or Christmas and Easter cards, and not in person during rare family get-togethers, during which she would peek around corners at the imposing woman with the suitcases and the heavy accent and the stories about somewhere called Castille, waiting for Catalina to notice her, to beckon her forward and ask what she has been reading.

(Her godmother would listen seriously to her answer as if it mattered and ask her serious questions about characters and plot and although it was strange, the absence of the faux-bright ‘talking-to-children’ tone that some of her other relatives adopted, she quite liked it.)

Her godmother has always been Catalina but they refer to her as ‘Aunty Cathy’ all the way to her house in the bright, florid tones one uses with children and pets.

She considers telling them that Catalina is her godmother, not her aunt, but she doesn’t.

She considers telling them that Catalina never goes by Cathy, that she’s seen herself how firmly she corrects the unwitting, foolish few who try to angelecise her name but she doesn’t.

She doesn’t say anything at all and she can tell that it makes them uncomfortable, embarrassed, when she stays musical-statue-still at their repeated requests to ‘say hello nicely’ and ‘give your aunty a hug’.

Catalina doesn’t seem particularly discomforted though- her smile is sad but as warm as ever, and she brushes off their apologies for her uncooperative ‘niece’.

‘It’s quite alright. And actually, she’s not my niece.’

It doesn’t make Cathy happy (she can’t imagine that she’ll ever feel happy again, she can’t imagine smiling ever again) but she does look up from her shoes.

(They’re her best shoes- birthday-parties-only shoes- but the tired-looking social worker hadn’t known that she was getting ready. Maybe the rule doesn’t exist now anyway since there’s no one to enforce it. It occurs to her that maybe she can wear special clothes all the time now and the thought makes her want to cry.)

‘She’s my goddaughter.’

Catalin catches her eye and smiles.

She nearly responds.

***

She should be sad about her parents- and she is, she is- but she’s sad about her books too. 

Not having them makes her feel smaller, untethered, like she’s not quite real.

Everything makes her feel not quite real. Her things (what’s left of them) have been added to Catalina’s small flat, the spare room bed is now hers. Catalina buys things at the supermarket that she’s sure she never used to buy before- rice krispies and chocolate spread and ribena- and a lower coat peg has been added to the hall cupboard for her coat...but she still feels as if she could disappear and not be noticed.

Catalina finds her curled up and crying under her bedspread one afternoon and scoops her out worriedly, asking if she is hurt, if she has pain. Her palm feels cool against her hot, damp cheek, her long fingers brushing away tears.

‘Talk to me, querida.’

It’s not the first time she has called Cathy this but it’s the first time since the moving-in four days ago. She’s the only one who has ever called Cathy that and so it doesn’t hurt like it does when other adults unthinkingly use names her parents once did- ‘Sweetheart’ ‘Darling’ ‘Honey’.

‘Tell me.’

She doesn’t want to- she doesn’t want to admit that she’s crying for things, for her old bedroom, for fear that it makes her seem heartless, selfish, unloving.

She should be crying about her parents, but that would require thinking about them and that’s something she only lets herself do in short bursts. She isn’t sure why but it makes her think of the time she sprained her wrist last summer (in a badly misjudged attempt at jumping from tree to trampoline during a game of Explorers)- after the initial chaos of noise and screaming (Anne, who had been playing the part of co-explorer at the time) and crying (her mother, who had argued against the trampoline in the first place), the pain had subsided into a dull, threatening throb, and she’d known instinctively that even to lightly brush against it would result in the sort of white-hot agonies that would make injections and scraped knees seem like nothing.

She doesn’t think too much about her parents but she is afraid to tell Catalina the truth in case it horrifies her, in case it makes her pull away and not want to have Cathy live with her anymore, because where would she go then?

So she whispers ‘Mum and Dad’ instead, and feels Catalina’s arms go around her tightly. 

She feels sick with herself for the lie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People seem to actually like this fic, which is a lovely surprise- so I wrote a bit more.

Going to Waterstones is a treat, but when they get there, she can’t make up her mind- there’s too much choice, too much. The thought of so many books, hers for the choosing, makes her feel a bit sick, in the same way that she would if she imagined eating ten icecream sundaes- too much of a good thing.

(Or perhaps it’s just that she’s tired. She’s always found it a bit hard to fall asleep but that used to be because she couldn’t stop thinking that she might be missing out on something interesting going on. Now though- she lies awake and thinks of home. She thinks of all the ways in which Catalina’s flat is different. She thinks about what will happen if something were to happen to her godmother- where she’ll go- and then she thinks about all the things that might happen to her, about how scary it is that no one knows what might happen next, how every day could be the last day you are alive and you just wouldn’t know at all. She doesn’t tell Catalina about these thoughts. She tells her she’s slept well.)

Choosing is hard- part of her wants to replace the old stories she lost, part of her is tempted by the new titles.

Eventually, she picks Matilda- out of all the books that got left behind, she misses that one the most. Thinking about it- about everything from that day, about the sad furniture on the curb, about how cold the house suddenly felt, about the strange hands pawing through her things- makes her eyes sting with sudden shameful tears and she has to stare at a shelf of stories about horses and blink hard until they go away. 

Catalina looks surprised when she hands her choice to her at the till.

‘Don’t you already have this one, querida?’

She isn’t sure whether to nod or shake her head- it occurs to her that of course Catalina recognises it. It was the last birthday present sent before everything changed. She wonders if Catalina will be angry that she let her birthday present be left behind, if she’ll blame her for not taking better care of it.

(Will she want to keep her if she thinks that Cathy is careless with her presents?)

It’s scanned and paid for before she’s been able to think of an answer and her godmother doesn’t appear to give it another thought, but then the tears- which apparently haven’t gone entirely away- start to leak out while she picks at her muffin the Waterstones cafe and Catalina sees.

‘Cathy? What’s the matter?’

She shakes her head and sniffles.

‘Querida-’ Catalina gets up, crouches by her chair. ‘Are you ill?’

She shakes her head again, then wishes she hadn’t, she wishes she’d pretended she was- it would be easier to explain.

‘What is it, carino?’

She doesn’t protest much as she is scooped out of her chair and into Catalina’s warm lap (even though she’s too big, she’s seven after all and everyone knows that seven is more or less eight and eight is nearly ten and ten is very nearly thirteen and thirteen is a grown up). 

Being wrapped up in her godmother’s arms feels nice, it feels safe, even if she knows that she probably will get into trouble in a minute, even if she has to close her eyes when she mumbles that she did used to have a copy of Matilda, that she doesn’t any more.

Her face is buried in Catalina’s jumper so her words come out a bit muffly but she seems to get the gist.

‘What happened to it? Did you lose it?’

She doesn’t sound at all angry but when Cathy explains about the moving-out, about her books being left on the curb, about how they told her that she didn’t need them any more because she’d read them once already, her face goes dark and draws tight.

It makes her afraid- that her godmother is cross that she didn’t make more of an effort to save her birthday present- but Catalina feels her squirm anxiously in her lap and her face looks like it tries to go back to normal.

‘It’s alright, querida.’ She doesn’t sound normal though.

‘....Are you cross?’ Her voice is very small and Catalina shakes her head emphatically and pulls her close again, holding her so tightly it nearly hurts.

‘Not at all, not with you. I promise.’ 

Her godmother is unusual for an adult, in that she tells the truth always, even when she perhaps shouldn’t (she is the only grown up who told Cathy that injections really did hurt when asked, and it;s thanks to her that Cathy knew there was no such thing as the toothfairy before she was even close to losing a tooth; she can still remember how cross her mother was over it) so she believes her.

They stay like that for a bit, Cathy tucked into her arms, without saying anything else. Eventually, Catalina gently wipes her damp cheeks with a blue paper napkin and smoothes her hair back thoughtfully. Then she looks at the muffin, mostly reduced to crumbs by now.

‘Are you finished?’

(That’s another odd thing- Catalina never seems to mind if she leaves food on her plate.)

Cathy nods.

‘Then we’ll go.’

She expects Catalina to make their way back to the car- instead, she follows her godmother back to the children’s book section, still sore eyed and sniffly.

‘Do you remember which others there were? Which others you had to leave?’

She nods uncertainly and Catalina gestures to the shelves.

‘Ok then.’

She stares back; Catalina kneels beside her and takes her hand. ‘We’ll replace them, querida. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if someone told me I had to move house without my- I brought everything from Spain, you know. Every bit of furniture, every book, every notepad.

I’m just so, so sorry that I didn’t think to make sure you could do the same.’

It’s not her godmother’s fault, but Catalina looks very, very sad until she forces a smile back onto her face.

‘We’ll get them back for you. I can do that at least.’

It’s a little much to take in- she’s never been bought more than one book at a time before. After a little more coaxing, she slowly starts to pick out familiar titles from the shelves. Catalina doesn’t let go of her hand as she adds the books Cathy gives her to the basket at her feet and she’s glad.

After a while she stops.

‘I- can’t remember all of them-’

(There were a lot after all.)

‘That’s ok.’ Catalina smiles reassuringly and squeezes her hand. ‘We can make a list, once we’re home- and if you remember any, we’ll add them to the list. We can always come back.’

It’s not until they’re at the cash point, watching the cashier scan her way through the basket, that Cathy thinks of something.

‘Catalina-?’

‘What is it, querida?’

‘The list….’

‘Yes?’

‘Well….’ She chews her lip, not sure how to say it. ‘You said I could tell you if I remembered other books and we’d get them…’

‘I did.’

‘Well….what if I just said books even if I didn’t used to have them? How would you know?’

‘Well-’ Catalina seems to consider and then presses a kiss to the top of Cathy’s head.

I suppose then we’d just have to get you another bookcase for your room to fit them all, querida.’ 

And she smiles.

The spare room isn’t her room but it feels more like her room when the books are unpacked later that day. 

And she feels a tiny bit more grounded. More real. But then books have always had a soothing effect- the familiar words are like a lullaby. The fact that Catalina actually comes and sits down beside her bed when she comes to say goodnight this time, and gently asks if there is anything other than her books that got left behind, if there is anything else that she needs, might have something to do with it too, but Cathy isn’t sure.

(She also promises never to be cross, and as nice as it sounds, it makes Cathy a bit skeptical. 

‘What if I-’ Catalina doesn’t look annoyed at her questioning, like some grown ups do when she points out holes in what they say- she just laughs and wraps an arm around Cathy’s shoulders, pulling her close. 

‘Alright...how about I promise never to be cross until I am sure that you are doing something on purpose to make me so?’ 

Cathy considers this. ‘Ok...Then I promise to never glue your hat to your head. Or put a bird up the chimney. Even though you don’t have a chimney.’ 

Catalina looks very confused for a moment and then she glances at the book on the bedside table and her expression clears. ‘Ah! Yes- good. And for my part, querida, I promise never to put you in a cupboard or swing you around by your pigtails.’ 

‘I don’t have pigtails.’ Catalina smiles and puts a hand to Cathy’s tight curls, a mirror of her own. 

‘Well, that is lucky. That will make it easier for me to keep my promise.’

Cathy smiles into the duvet at this, and Catalina leans in to kiss her forehead. 

‘Sweet dreams and god bless. I’m just next door if you need me.’ 

She always says this, as if Cathy might forget where her godmothers bedroom is over the course of just one day, but she likes that Catalina still says it anyway.)

She goes to sleep that night with her new copy of Matilda under her pillow and for once, she sleeps soundly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cathy deals with the mental chaos that is Grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to have a go at showing a) how absolutely confusing and awful it is trying to Do Life when you're dealing with a berevement too (because on the one hand you have to care about all this mundane stuff but then you feel guilty and it's just a horrible cycle) and b) that children have.....really interesting thought processes. 
> 
> I mean, I've probably done a terrible job because it's been ages since I was a child myself but generally in fandom, you tend to see a lot of children being written as simultaneously very immature in how they act (not using full sentences, doing and saying things in the manner of a much younger child) and very mature in how they think (immediately coming to terms with the idea of a new caregiver, not holding unneccesery grudges or apportioning blame).... 
> 
> Whereas I think actually, children irl can be quite mature in how they act (children can be Deep as hell) but quite immature in how they think (in that irl children tend to be quite wary of people, they ascribe motives to people that don't exist, they have trouble seeing the bigger picture).
> 
> So that's what I tried to show here, the idea that Babey Cathy is a reasonably mature 7 yr old....but, y'know. She's still a child.
> 
> Feedback would be lovely please (and thank you so much for the feedback so far, it gives me life!)- especially thoughts on how I portrayed the grief-process (anyone on my tumblr will see I've given more detail to my inspiration for this chapter there)/the general portrayal of Babey Cathy herself!
> 
> Enjoy!

She used to like school, back before, but that was back when everything was different, when she had a Mum to collect her like everyone else and when she could write about going to the park and the library and the swimming pool in her newsbook just like everyone else.

Catalina has taken her to the park, to the library- but she can’t let herself enjoy it now. She keeps hoping that her parents will bob up from behind a bush or a bookshelf and tell her that everything was just a big misunderstanding- but they don’t. They never do, but she can’t stop herself hoping it, even if doing so feels like prodding a wobbly tooth- just as painful, just as impossible to resist.

Even the idea of school feels wrong now- school belongs back then, toher old normal.

Now, normal is staying at home with Catalina, trips to bookshops (new ones with cafes and shiney displays, old ones where the books are tired and tattered, with yellowing pages that smell of old paper and dust) which she likes, trips to church (which she wishes she liked) and trips to see a therapist (her therapist) which she has decided that she definitely doesn’t like.

She doesn’t like the stuffy waiting room, she doesn’t like the waiting room toys- the books with pages torn out and scribbles all over the cover, the sad barbies left lying with their legs splayed and half their clothes missing, the jigsaw puzzles where all the pieces are mixed together. 

There are better things in the actual therapy room- paints and a real easel, better craft supplies even than at school- but after the first session, when she’s meant to be fetching her coat, she hears the therapist lady (Doctor Jenny, she is meant to call her) talking to Catalina about her, asking how she’s settling, asking if they’re coping….and she hates the thought of being discussed so much that she decides not to talk there again. Not even for the sake of the easel, and she rips the painting she made in her session into pieces in the backseat of the car on the way home. She wants to throw them out of the window but that would be littering and she has sat through enough school assemblies about littering to know that it is one of the worst, worst things you can do (aside from drawing in library books and pushing people into traffic) so she doesn’t, just holds the balled up painty scraps of paper in her fists until she can drop them into the bin where they belong.

School isn’t her new normal- but now apparently Catalina has to go back to work and she has to go back to school whether they want to or not.

‘Can’t you keep teaching me here? I did all my workbook-’ She quite likes filling out the booklets that the school had sent ‘in the interests of not falling behind’, although it feels funny to fill them out sitting on the sofa and wearing her weekend clothes.

‘I’d like to, querida.’ Catalina looks tired- she’s been frowning and looking at papers, then typing, then frowning again and pressing the back space key very, very hard- but now she swivels her chair around to look at Cathy properly. ‘I really would. But we wouldn’t be allowed.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s the law, you have to be in school...and I have to go back to work…before everything just completely falls apart without me….’ She looks at the papers, drops them back into the pile. ‘You’ll be able to see all your friends again- you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

She shrugs. She would like to see Anne- but she hasn’t seen her properly since before  _ then _ , only talked to her on the phone and Anne had kept talking about Anna, the new girl, about how she’s sitting with Anne til Cathy is back, about how she brought in a big cornet of sweets to share on her first day, about how there was something called Katjes that was really liquorice…. and even thinking about it makes her chest feel tight and scared because what if Anne doesn’t want to be best friends any more? (What if Anna is more fun?)

Catalina takes both of her hands in her own and kisses them. ‘It will be ok, querida. I promise.’

(Catalina always tells the truth but it’s harder to believe her this time.)

She watches from the doorway that evening as Catalina lays out clothes- stiff suits and high, high heels, skirt and blouse and school jumper- and feels sick.

She sleeps badly, picks at her toast and doesn’t hug Catalina back when she says goodbye. She’s not even allowed to go into the playground before the bell rings- instead, she has to go into the headmistresses office because there are ‘special circumstances’ (although what these are she isn’t quite sure.)

Mrs Jardin says things about grief and loss and settling in. No comment seems to be required from her so she stays quiet until the bell releases her.

Anne walks into the classroom with a girl she hasn’t seen before who she thinks must be Anna. This girl- this new girl- gives Cathy a friendly smile, as if she isn’t stealing her best friend while her back is turned…. and she pretends not to see. 

(She doesn’t know why she should smile at a friend stealer.)

It doesn’t feel right to sit in her old class, as if everything is the same….but then, a new teacher comes in to take the register and she doesn’t like that it’s different either. 

Anne whispers that she’s nice, that she let them make get well soon cards for their usual teacher rather than having to do the usual Friday spelling test, and she thinks that of course that would make Anne like her.

(Unlike her, Anne does not enjoy the spelling test.)

There’s dinner money to hand in, then a boring assembly about road safety and looking both ways. There’s literacy hour, like usual; numeracy hour, like usual. No gold stars for anyone (although their old teacher always used to have them- this new teacher just does boring ticks in red pen)- and then a change: they’re going to make cards.

For Mothers day.

Which is in a week.   
  


Suddenly, she feels very cold. Mothers day. 

She doesn’t want to think about last year- daffodils picked from the garden, carrying a tray not-to-spill-carefully into the bedroom, being allowed to boil the kettle and make the toast herself, the picture that kept coming out wrong and the poem she wrote herself in place of it. 

She wants Catalina to come- to take her home or even just to BE there… but then she remembers that Catalina has abandoned her, that she’s the one making her have to go to school at all.

(And besides, Catalina is at work now anyway, doing whatever she does at work. She pictures meetings and shouty phone calls and wavy lines in red on graph paper, like when she and Anne play office.) (She wonders what games Anne plays with Anna and decides they’re probably all boring anyway.)

The teacher finished explaining- about spelling and sharing the felt pens and taking turns with the glitter, as if they’re babies, as if they’ve never made cards before when everyone knows that even the Nursery school children make cards at Christmas and Easter….and she turns to her blank sheet of construction paper and wishes she could tear it up.

‘What are you going to do?’

Anne’s whisper catches her by surprise.

‘What do you mean?’

Anne looks uncomfortable. ‘Because- well-’

She understands what Anne means, all at once, and it’s like cold water being poured on her- of course she can’t make a card for mum because mum isn’t there to have it and she knows this, but this realisation still feels new and suddenly she’s thinking of all the other things she won’t ever be able to give mum or dad ever again, birthday presents and Christmas presents and-

Anne is almost quivering next to her, her hand waving high in the air, and Cathy just KNOWS what she’s going to ask- what about if you don’t have a Mum to make a card for? 

She knows that’s what she’s going to ask, and it makes her so angry (angry that Anne is asking, angry that it’s a question that applies to her now, angry that Anne and everyone else get to still have parents, angry that they have to do this stupid project in the first place when everyone knows that it’s meant to be history workbooks after break) that she’s burning hot all over.

The teacher suddenly stops her monologue on the necessity of Putting Lids on Felt Tips, as if she’s  _ heard _ the question through the waving of Anne’s hand, and she smiles like she’s swallowed a tin of golden syrup. Her voice is syrupy to match.

‘Of course, for anyone who doesn’t have a mother-’ She pauses. ‘What I mean is, if you’d like to make a card for someone else- maybe an auntie….well, that’s  _ fine _ ’. 

She even looks at Cathy as she says it- but she doesn’t want to make a card for Catalina. She isn’t her auntie, she definitely isn’t her mum.

‘Because of course, you don’t have to be a mum to do mum-things!’

(Her mum wouldn’t have abandoned her at school, she thinks first….and then she wonders if maybe her mum has abandoned her after all- except worse and more forever. It’s not a nice thought to have.)

‘People can be your mum in spirit and that’s fine!’

(Does that mean Catalina has to take the place of her mum now?)

Part of her still wants Catalina to come and make things ok again (although she’s not sure how she would)- but part of her is angry too.

She’s angry with Catalina, for doing all the ‘mum-things’, angry with herself that she’s been letting her. (Can her own mum see her letting Catalina tuck her into bed and run her bath and hear her spellings? Would she be cross if she could?)

She feels more mixed up than ever, and it’s all Anne’s fault, it’s all Anne’s fault (for asking the question, for putting the thought into the stupid teacher’s head, for liking Anna better) and when the teacher turns her back (because someone has somehow broken their gluestick like an idiot), the anger bubbles up and she kicks Anne as hard as she can under the desk. 

She’s not sure what she’s expecting- Anne to kick her back maybe, or to jump up and tell on her and get her into trouble, but instead Anne just bursts into tears.

Part of her wants to say sorry….but part of her thinks it serves Anne right for sitting next to stupid new Anna with her stupid shoes that light up and her stupid purse shaped like a dog. (They’re definitely not cool and she definitely isn’t going to ask for either for her birthday.) 

Within seconds, the teacher is bearing down on them both.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, young lady?’ (She thinks spitefully that the teacher has probably forgotten her name already, something that their usual teacher would NEVER do.)

She just scowls back.

‘You’re going to say sorry to- your friend’ (Clearly she’s forgotten Anne’s name too) ‘-and then you’re going to sit and get on with your card nicely where I can see you-’

‘I don’t want to.’

She folds her arms and the teacher huffs.

‘This is NOT the sort of behaviour I expect from children in this year group! Imagine what your mother would-’

She says it and then freezes, her face going bright red- and it’s this freezing that makes it worse, like a big loud reminder that mum CAN’T see her, that she’ll never see her again, that the teacher has made a big mistake by mentioning it…. And there’s a roaring in her head as she picks up her paper, rips it into pieces and throws them into the woman’s face.

When the teacher tries to take her hand and pull her to the front of the room, she pulls away and pushes all her things- her pencils and pens, her rubber that smells like strawberries onto the floor and stamps on them and feels the crack of plastic under her school shoes- until a hand closes around her wrist and she’s dragged away and deposited into the corridor.

(She’s never been put out into the corridor before because that’s something that only the really bad children have happen to them, and she’s never been one of them….except she also never used to be the child without parents, she never used to want to make Anne hurt, so maybe now everything is different, it doesn’t matter what she does because nothing will make it better, and there’s nothing to do but scream and scream and scream.)

**

She’s acting crazy, not like herself at all- and the scary thing is, she can’t seem to stop, though her throat is raw and sore and her head is aching. 

It hurts worse than when she had flu, and had to drink cups of lemon and honey and suck on horrible tasting lozenges (that didn’t taste anything like cherry no matter what the label said)...except when she had flu, she knes she’d get better but can you get better from something like this that isn’t an illness?

It frightens her that she can’t  _ stop _ but then perhaps it doesn’t matter because everything is ruined anyhow, her parents are never coming back (she knows this, she knows this), all her pens are broken, everyone in her class saw her tear things up like a really bad kid and Anne will sit next to Anna forever and Catalina will be so angry with her…...she’ll be in so much trouble and what if Catalina doesn’t want her any more, what if she decides that she’s too much trouble because of this-

The thought has her curled up into herself, her face pressed against her drawn-up knees because it’s so scary, scarier than roller coasters and dogs that bark and the dark space under her bed, scarier than the little bit of a horror film that Anne’s sister showed them once when she slept over with the man that had knives for hands, scarier than anything-

The click click click of high heels sound down the hall- and it’s a new sound to hear at school because those aren’t the sort of shoes that the teachers or the dinner ladies wear, they’re not even the sort of shoes the big grown-up girls in Year 6 wear, she only knows one person who wears those sort of shoes-

‘Querida-’

When Catalina crouches down in front of her and puts a hand on her arm, part of her wants to cling onto her and make her promise to not ever leave ever ever- but another part of her tells her that she’s being stupi,d that of course her godmother won;t want her any more, that she’s probably just come into school to tell her that- and so she pushes the hand away roughly and won’t look up.

‘What’s the matter?’

She says nothing.

‘I can’t help if you don’t talk to me, carino.’

She doesn’t want to talk.

‘I need to make sure you are ok, querida. Can you tell me what made you so upset?’

She doesnt sound angry, she sounds like she always does- and it’s all wrong, she shouldn’t even be here, school shouldn’t be calling Catalina . No one else has their godparents called into school….cxcept of course they have to because there’s no one else, there’s no one else at all-

‘I hate you.’

She even means it. Perhaps if Catalina wasn’t around to fill in and do all the mum things, then mum would still be alive (because how could she have died if there was truly no one else?)

‘Why querida?’

‘It’s your fault. You should have died instead of mum.’

She means that too, but as she says it, she hides her face in her arms so she doesn’t have to see if Catalina looks cross or sad or (and this would somehow be worst of all) like she doesn’t even care.

(Not that she cares how Catalina feels. If she hadn’t ruined everything by making her come into school- if she hadn’t ruined everything by existing at all-)

She wonders, in the darkness of her arms, what will happen next- shouting (except Catalina doesn’t shout, apart from at traffic lights that change too quickly or spiders that come out of nowhere) or just the click-click-click of her heels leaving...but there’s nothing.

Nothing at all.

Just quiet.

It’s so quiet for so long that she wonders if perhaps Catalina has actually left after all- it would make sense for her to leave- and the thought gives her a little frisson of fear. 

Despite everything….she doesn’t want to be all by herself. Not really. 

She waits for a long, long time.

Eventually, she risks a glance up- steeling herself for the empty corridor. 

But Catalina is still there, sitting on the wooden floor with her high shoes sitting next to her and the nail polish on her toes showing through her tights. 

She doesn’t look cross, only very sad and tired…. but she makes her face into a smile when she sees she’s being watched and the relief- that she isn’t being shouted at or sent away or hated is enough to make her start to cry all over again.

She knows she’s probably ruined everything already by saying those things- and she can’t escape the feeling that she’s doing something wrong by wanting by wanting her godmother in the same way she used to want her mum (like she’s betraying her, like she’s making her sad in heaven)......but she’s so very tired and lonely, and Catalina looks so warm and safe and comforting that she reaches out to her without meaning to, half wondering if she’ll be pushed away.

She isn’t pushed away.

Warm hands gently draw her close until she’s being held safe in her godmothers arms, one hand stroking her damp tangled hair away from her hot face while she tries to burrow far into Catalina’s smart silk work shirt and stiff black blazer. 

She knows she’s making them both wet and disgusting but she doesn’t care and Catalina doesn’t seem to mind either, just gently rocks her back and forth and murmurs things that must be in spanish but it doesn’t matter that she can’t understand, she just wants Catalina to keep holding her and keep talking because if she’s doing that, she can;t be planning on getting rid of her, at least not now, at least not yet-

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry-’

‘Oh querida. It’s alright. It’s all going to alright.’

She should explain herself- that’s what adults always say ‘explain yourself’, but she doesn’t know if she can and when she tries, it comes out wrong and she starts hiccuping in between sobs.

‘Shhhh, carino. You don’t have to talk yet.’

She whimpers and presses her face back into Catalina’s chest and feels a kiss be pressed into her hairline.

‘It’s alright. We’ll sort this all out, I promise.’

She’d like to say that some things can’t be fixed- but she’s too tired. She actually doesn’t feel very well at all, and now she’s noticing it- not just the way her throat is sore, not just the being tired, she feels sick too, and her head aches and she’s shaking a bit all over like she has the flu except she doesn’t- but Catalina’s arms are warm and safe and so she makes herself just think about that, about that instead.

A long, long time passes before she feels like she can talk again- there’s a heaviness all up her arm and legs and in her head.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.’

‘It’s alright, querida. Do you want to tell me what happened? What made you so upset, hm?’

She doesn’t want to tell her at all but Catalina won’t be able to fix it if she doesn’t so she does her best- the Mother’s day card and Anne trying to ask her stupid question, Anne sitting with Anna instead of her, the daffodils last year, never being able to make another Mother’s day card again, the way the teacher looked at her, the anger and Anne crying at being kicked and all her own pens being broken.

Catalina listens and nods seriously and doesn’t interrupt, even though Cathy knows it’s a bit jumbled and she has to keep stopping every so often to sniffle into the tissues Catalina hands to her from the little packet in her purse.

When she finishes, Catalina nods slowly, like she’s working it all out in her head.

‘That is….quite a lot, querida.’

It actually makes her feel a (tiny) bit better, that Catalina doesn’t laugh or tell her she’s making a fuss about nothing…..but she knows what it also means- it isn’t all going to be fixed right away. Perhaps Catalina can see she’s disappointed because she squeezes her hand.

‘Would you like to hear my thoughts so far?’

She would.

‘I think your parents loved you very, very much. And that if they can see you, they will be thinking how very proud they are that you have been so brave and done so well, even without them there. I think they’d be proud to see how well you’re coping with having to live in a new place and do things differently.’

‘You don’t think they’d….mind? Do you think they’d be upset that I- about today?’

It hurts to ask but she wants to be sure.

Catalina shakes her head.

‘I think that you are having to work through a lot of things that are difficult. Very, very difficult. There is no easy way to lose people. And sometimes it will make you sad, and sometimes it will make you angry….like today-’

There’s a tiny lightening in her stomach at Catalina says that. She doesn’t feel better exactly...but it helps to know that perhaps she isn’t a really bad person after all. That it’s not badness, just grief. That maybe it’s even a bit normal.

‘Does everyone…..feel like this?’

Catalina looks down at her. ‘In one way or another….yes.’

‘Do you?’

‘Sometimes...yes.’

The thought makes her eyes go wide. She tries to imagine Catalina throwing pens on the floor of her smart office and it’s almost enough to make her smile again. Almost.

‘It doesn’t make you bad, it just part of grieving, carino- the hurting’ She pauses. ‘Not that you don’t need to try and make sure you don’t hurt other people too of course. I think perhaps you owe Anne an apology, hm?’

She shrugs and burrows back against the blazer and it feels cold and damp. ‘I don’t think she even wants to be my friend anymore-’

‘I can’t believe that, querida.’

‘It’s true. She has Anna now.’

‘Well’ Catalina changes position, stretching a cramped leg. ‘Why don’t you ask her?’

She isn’t sure what she means- and then Catalina gives her a tiny nudge and she looks up to see Anne’s face peering anxiously through the pane of glass in the classroom door. When she sees Cathy looking back at her, she looks enormously relieved- before she stops herself and makes a silly exaggerated cross face instead and mimes hopping up and down in pain.

Cathy finds she’s laughing in spite of herself- and Anne laughs too and sticks out her tongue, before a summons from inside drags her reluctantly away from the door.

‘Seems like she still wants to be friends to me.’

And she thinks perhaps Catalina is right.

Perhaps things aren’t as broken as she thought.

(Perhaps she can live with Catalina and let her do the mum-things that her own mum isn’t around for, but also keep thinking of mum-as-mum in her head. Perhaps she doesn’t have to feel guilty for doing normal things- perhaps she can feel proud. Perhaps things will work out mostly alright- not as alright as they’d have been if mum and dad were still alive but….close. Close enough.)

(Perhaps she’ll even ask Anna if she wants to play one day.)

(Perhaps.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely feedback for my last chapter!  
> This one is a bit more focused on Catalina- because I thought it would be interesting to focus a bit on what it must be like for the grown up in this sort of situation. Lots of child-centric fics tend to show adult caregivers as either perfect and saintlike or horrible abusers but there's a middle way irl and honestly, looking after children must be incredibly scary and stressful. I thought Catalina deserved to make a friend, and I also wanted to be able to introduce Anne and Jane a bit more in this chapter because I have a whole headcanon for Anne's backstory too.  
> I also couldn't resist including Mary Boleyn- although I'm aware that I'm making her a bit of a stereotype.
> 
> Anyway, Ihope you all enjoy and feedback would be amazing please!

There’s a long talk between Catalina and the headmistress in the office, while she chews her nails on a hard plastic chair outside- sometimes, she overhears the odd word or two (‘Grief process’ and ‘understanding’ and ‘bereavement leave policy’) but mostly it’s just a hum.

She wonders if Catalina is being told she’s being expelled, she wonders what happens when you’re expelled, if you go to school at all or if you stay at home or if they send you to a special scary school for expelled children- but when Catalina comes out, she just takes her by the hand and tells her that they’re going to go home and it’s all been agreed that she can start fresh tomorrow, as long as she promises that next time she feels this bad, she tells someone. They’ve made a deal, that Catalina is going to work out with her horrible-boss-James, that she can leave class to call Catalina on the telephone or just to take a moment to cool down, if she feels like she really needs to, on the headmistresses condition that she ‘not abuse the privilege’ (whatever that means- she isn’t sure.)

It’s a relief to be home (and it’s funny, she thinks, that she thinks ‘home’ and not ‘Catalina’s flat’ for once). She shakes her head hard when Catalina asks if she would like to take a nap.

‘You look exhausted, querida.’

‘I’m not. I’m fine.’

Catalina doesn’t look like she really believes her but she doesn’t insist. She does ask if Cathy would like her to read to her for a bit instead and that actually sounds quite nice because Catalina does Voices (and she’s really good at it). It turns out though, that lying on the sofa with her head in Catalina’s lap, listening to her read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, actually does make her fall asleep after all, and when she wakes up (from a dream of snow and talking lions and turkish delight), there’s a blanket over her.

Catalina raises an eyebrow from her armchair.

‘I thought you weren’t tired?’

(Her godmother can be really MEAN sometimes.)

Later, she absolutely refuses her Catalina’s suggestion that she make Anne an apology card- she’s had enough of cards- but she weakens when Catalina suggests an apology letter instead, and a chance to write it with her special heavy fountain pen. (Especially when she promises a real envelope to put it in, one that she can seal up properly rather than having to save it to reuse because Stationary Costs Money, which is what Catalina usually says when she asks for stamps or envelopes or rubber bands to play with.)

(‘But you brought the envelopes home from work-’ Catalina makes a noise like she’s trying to cough and doesn’t answer, and she has to tug on her hand a bit. ‘You said they had lots and lots and that stupid James would never notice and anyway, he owes you for-’ ‘Well’ Catalina is looking very uncomfortable for some reason. ‘They still cost money so-’ ‘But it wasn’t YOUR money, you didn’t pay for them because stupid James did-’ ‘Shall we get some icecream before we go home?’ She isn’t sure why Catalina is avoiding the looks of everyone else in the supermarket queue or why she’s changing the subject but icecream is icecream. And grown ups are strange. Still, it feels a bit unfair too, the way that grownups are allowed to so easily avoid questions they don’t want to answer. Why isn’t SHE allowed to suggest they get some icecream to avoid having to answer questions about brushing her teeth and making her bed and whether or not she has plans to pick up her barbies from the living room floor?)

‘Can I have a stamp too?’

‘Don’t you want to give it to her at school? See her reaction?’

She isn’t sure. She does...but the idea of a stamp is tempting too... Eventually though, Catalina agrees to let her have a stamp anyway (even though she’ll just hand it over to Anne at school because she isn’t really sure of Anne’s full address) and she writes her letter at the kitchen table, while Catalina keeps an eye on the soup and washes up.

‘How do you spell ‘emotional’?’

Catalina obliges. ‘What are you putting, querida?’

‘I’m telling Anne that I’m sorry I kicked her and that I was having emotional stress-’

Catalina turns hurriedly back to the soup pot and presses a hand to her mouth- when she turns back, she’s fighting to keep her face straight. Cathy isn’t at all sure what’s so funny though.

‘-and that I promise to never do it again, unless she does it to me first and then it will be self defence. And that she can wear the purple shoes next time we play dressing up even if I get them first and they’re my favourites because I’m showing her that I’m properly sorry.’

‘That sounds like an excellent letter, querida.’ Catalina stirs the soup thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you could cement the make up properly, hm? Maybe you could ask Anne over to play one day?’

It’s a very, very good suggestion. She finishes the letter and Catalina shows her how to do the first letter of every line in fancy curly writing, like in the big bible Catalina keeps on a special stand in her bedroom that is Not To Be Touched, and promises that if Anne’s parents agree, she can have Anne over to play next Friday.

(And of course they will say yes. Although they won’t exactly, because Cathy knows it will be Anne’s big sister Mary who Catalina will end up having to ask, and she will say yes because she always does, in her quick, relieved, as if she’s saying yes before the person making the offer can take it back. 

Cathy knows this, and Anne knows this- but Catalina is a grown up, and so she knows that Catalina will do the thing that all the other class parents do every time there is a party or a trip, of trying and trying to call the house phone, and getting more and more cross when there’s never any answer, before they give up and call the mobile number for Anne’s sister that they were told to call in the first place.)

She gives Anne the letter in the playground the next morning and Anne is bouncing up and down with excitement at the thought of seeing her new room (and a little bit at the thought of getting first dibs on the purple shoes too). Anna hovers next to them and reaches out to touch the paper of the letter.

Anne lets her take it, already talking about what they’ll do on Friday- but Cathy is only half listening because Anna looks sad- a strange sort of sad where she’s smiling to not let people see.

‘It’s really good-’ She strokes the curly letters with a gentle finger- her voice is different to any voice Cathy has heard before and that’s apparently because Anna is from Germany and that’s how they sound in Germany, just like Catalina sounds different because she’s from Spain. ‘Did you do it by yourself?’

It occurs to Cathy that for all she’s been thinking about Anna, this is the first time they’ve actually talked to each other.

‘Catalina showed me how.’

‘Is Catalina your sister?’

‘Her godmother.’ Anne is still bouncing. ‘She’s from Spain. She’s really nice. Cathy’s lucky.’

She wonders for a second if Anne is going to say anything else, scared it’s going to be yesterday all over again- but she doesn’t- and surprisingly, she doesn’t feel anything other than pleased. Catalina  _ is _ nice, after all. She  _ is _ lucky.

‘Can you teach me- us?’ Anna’s looking at Cathy like she knows how to do something really amazing and she’s not sure what to say, yes or no, and then Anne interrupts and says that Cathy should teach her on Friday so that they can maybe use Catalina’s special pen too.

She’s about to agree- and then she thinks about how that means Anna won’t be there. About how she invited only Anne to come over, not Anna, and how if she shows Anne away from Anna, how Anna probably won’t get to see it at all. And she thinks about how sad it made her feel, when she was imagining Anna and Anne off having fun without her, and how Anna doesn’t even really seem to have any friends yet because she’s new-

A little part of her wants to enjoy this- to say yes, to show Anna that SHE is Anne’s best friend and that Anne isn;t in the market for a new one...but it’s only a little, little part.

Instead, she tells Anne that she’ll show them both at lunchtime- and Anna smiles a very small smile at her. and she smiles back, and it actually feels better than leaving Anna out would. 

(Probably, anyway.)

**

‘But you _promised_!’

‘I’m sorry querida- I just forgot-’ 

Catalina looks tired in her wrinkled work suit, among all the other mums in comfy cardigans and tshirts, and usually Cathy feels sorry for her when she looks like that, like she’s been carrying something very very heavy for a very very long time….but she’s too angry to feel anything other than cross because she _promised_ , it was all _planned_ -

‘It was all arranged!’

‘I’m so sorry-’ Catalina really does look sorry, but she doesn’t care. 

‘Even if you forgot, you remembered now-’ She keeps talking even though Catalina is already shaking her head. ‘So why can’t Anne still come?’

‘Because-’ Catalina rubs her forehead with her fingers. ‘I’ve had a very, very long day querida. I’m very tired. And we can make plans for another day but tonight-’

‘I don’t WANT plans for another day!’ Her eyes feel hot, she stamps her foot hard and she wishes she was big enough that it sounded scary and loud and not stupid and silly.

‘You are not being reasonable Cathy.’

It should worry her perhaps that Catalina is calling her by her name when she never calls her anything but querida or carino...but she doesn’t even care about that because Catalina is still saying no and she promised, _she promised_ -

‘I don’t care!’ She doesn’t quite shout it but it’s as loud as talking can be before it tips over, and Catalina looks like she’s having to fight to make herself not shout too, even though she never shouts.

‘Cathy, you need to stop this NOW.’

‘You’re being so UNFAIR!’ And now she is shouting, and Catalina is glaring at her.

‘I swear, if you don’t-’

‘Excuse me?’

And then as if by magic, a woman appears between them, and it breaks them both off from their little battle.

‘Hello-’ Catalina looks a little bit confused because she doesn’t know this lady, Cathy realises, but she does- her name is Jane and sometimes she brings Anne and her little cousin Kitty (who’s in the Reception class and who hardly ever talks she’s so shy) to school and takes them home and gives them their tea after if Mary doesn’t do it or forgets. 

(Mary forgets a lot, but then again, she’s quite busy because she has a baby of her own to look after which is nice except that it makes Mary look tired all the time and sometimes she doesn’t have the energy to take care of Baby Catherine and to take Anne and sometimes Kitty to school and to go to her own classes too.)

Jane’s not an auntie or even a godmother, Cathy knows, just a neighbour- but she came to the end of term Nativity last year even though she doesn’t have any other children who go to the school and clapped especially hard when Anne (and Cathy and the other girls playing angels) came to the front in their halos made from gold tinsel, and she puts the pictures Anne makes in art on her fridge (says Anne) even when they’re not very good.

(Cathy doesn’t know if there’s a word for the person who does that. Because neighbour doesn’t seem to really fit for Jane.)

‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing-’ Jane is smiling a bit awkwardly. ‘I thought I was picking Anne up today- I didn’t realise she was meant to go to you-’

‘It’s fine-’ Catalina shakes her head. ‘It was planned but I forgot- I don’t think I can manage it tonight and if you’re here already-’

‘No!’ She howls it- why is Catalina ruining things even more?- and Catalina shoots her a cross be-quiet-now look.

‘It’s no trouble, I can go if-’

‘Yes! Yes please!’

‘No!’ Catalina says it so sharply and loudly that Cathy is stopped in her tracks- but before anything else can be said, Jane is putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Cathy- it’s Cathy, isn’t it?’

She nods mutely eyes starting to sting.

‘Why don’t you run along and play with Anne for a few minutes while-’

‘Catalina’ Catalina has the sort of tight, forced smile that she wears when she’s having to make herself be polite.

‘While Catalina and I talk? Alright?’

She wants to say that it isn’t alright- but she’s also a bit scared about making Catalina cross so she nods again and turns to go.

‘Querida, wait-’

Before she can move, Catalina puts out a hand and stops her- she wonders if she’s in proper proper trouble- but Catalina just sighs and pulls her into a hug and cuddles her close.

‘I’m sorry I snapped at you.’

‘It’s ok-’ She sort of wants to ask about Anne coming over again but she doesn’t quite dare. It’s enough at least that Catalina looks normal again and has lost her shouty-cross face, and she presses herself close to her warmth and familiar safe smell before Catalina lets go and turns back to Jane.

She doesn’t go to play though. Instead, she takes her reading book from her school bag and sits cross legged on the hall floor a little way away, so that she can still hear.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt- it just seemed like things were getting a bit heated and… I know it’s not my place to-’

‘No, it’s fine- It’s difficult-’ Catalina sighs. ‘I did promise her, I feel awful really- It just completely slipped my mind!’

‘It’s quite alright- we’ve all been there!’ Jane gives a little laugh. ‘I’d offer to take both the girls to play at Anne’s but you don’t know me from Eve of course- I’m Jane, by the way.’

‘Catalina. I’m Cathy’s godmother.’

‘Yes, I- heard.’ Jane says it a bit uncomfortably, as if she’s admitting to something bad, and Cathy wonders what could be wrong with hearing things.

‘I can imagine everyone’s been talking…’

‘I think they’re just concerned for you both, really.’

‘I’m sure.’ Catalina says it in her sarcastic voice. ‘Funny that not a single one of them have actually come to ask how things are going….how Cathy’s coping, anything like that…. I mean, I don’t expect anything, they’re not MY friends after all….but I would have thought for Maria’s sake, at least….they were her friends once, after all.’

(It’s true, she realises, when Catalina says it. All the other mums used to talk to her mum at school- but they don’t talk to Catalina. They look past her like she’s not there, and then do little glances back at her. She wonders if it makes her godmother feel lonely.)

‘I suppose it’s difficult.’

‘It is. It is difficult. It’s difficult for Cathy, having to lose her parents and get used to me and deal with all the chance. And it’s difficult for me too- all I want to do is just….scream and throw things at how unfair it all is, but I have to keep things together because of course I don’t want Cathy to be worried and- Well, it doesn’t help to know half the school is whispering. Not that I care what they say about me but- you should have heard what some of them were saying when I arrived! Just because Cathy had a bit of meltdown yesterday- she’s seven, can’t they show some compassion?’

(Catalina sounds so angry- but it’s funny because it doesn’t sound like it’s HER Catalina is angry at. Even though she was the one to cause all the trouble.) 

‘-I’m sorry-’

‘No, not at all-’

‘I didn’t meant to unload on you like that…’

‘No honestly-’ Jane puts a hand on her arm. ‘It sounds like you needed to a bit. I can’t imagine how hard things must be for you both right now. I’m sorry you’re getting even more to deal with on top of everything-’

‘It’s just all so-’ Catalina lowers her voice but Cathy can still just about hear. ‘I’m new to all of this- as you can probably tell…. What you must think of me, shouting like that-’

‘You just forgot, it’s not the end of the world- especially if you’ve been working all day-’

‘It’s not just that… I barely trust that I’m doing the right thing with Cathy half the time’ Catalina closes her eyes. ‘I’m scared to death every moment that I’m going to do something wrong and…. just scar her for life by accident because of something I say or do wrong. The thought of two children to be responsible for- I don’t know if I could manage someone else’s child as well. What if something went wrong, what if-’

‘I think you’re being very hard on yourself’ Jane’s voice is very gentle. ‘Honestly...from what I can see, you’re doing a fantastic job. Truly.’

‘Really?’ Catalina laughs bitterly. ‘I forget a promise I made and then I get cross with her over it like a-’

‘Like any parent who has had a long day.’ Jane soothes. ‘You should be happy she feels comfortable enough around you to act out a bit- I can’t tell you how worrying it is to have a child who’s too scared of displeasing you to say a word…I used to foster.’ She adds quickly as explanation. ‘The early days when they’re just...unnaturally quiet and good because they think they have to be….’

‘Yes I think I can safely say we’ve gotten over that…’ Catalina smiles ruefully. ‘Although you’re right...I think she’s finally starting to trust I’m not planning on getting rid of her if she does something wrong. I just- it’s such a big responsibility. To look after a child, I mean. I love her so much but I never planned to….have my own, and honestly? I’m scared to death of it. God knows what got me to even suggest it in the first place, I just wanted to cheer her up after she had such a horrible day- and she looked so happy when I suggested it and now-’

(Hearing Catalina talk is making her stomach squeeze- not from being scared but from feeling sorry for her godmother. It’s strange to think of Catalina being worried, it’s strange to hear her talk about being scared. She didn’t think Catalina was scared of anything. It’s a surprise to hear that she is, and it’s even more of a surprise to hear that Catalina is scared of HER. Or at least, scared of doing things wrong for her. She thought it was only ever children who were scared of doing things wrong for grown ups.) 

Jane considers. ‘I mean…. Look, please feel free to say no, there’s absolutely no obligation at all but ...would it perhaps make you feel… a bit more comfortable if you had Anne over with me to sort of chaperone? You wouldn’t have to worry about taking charge of Anne- she’s used to me, you’d have another adult to keep an eye on things and some company- although I’m happy also to just read my book if you don’t feel up for chatting...? But there’s no pressure at all,’ she adds hurriedly ‘I completely understand if you want to just put your feet up and relax, you must be exhausted after working all day-’

Cathy holds her breath and wills Catalina to agree.

_ Sayyessayessayyessayyessayyes- _

Catalina considers for a long moment- and she’s sure that she’s going to say no after all...and then she nods.

‘Yes. Yes please. I’d like that- it’d be nice to get to know one of the other mums here-’

‘Oh I’m not-’

Catalina nods quickly, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry-’

‘Not at all-’

‘But yes.’ She smiles, looking a little embarrassed. ‘It’s...actually a little bit odd not knowing anyone at all- Maria did all the school mum stuff when she was here, of course but it’s not like she ever filled me in on it and it’s not like I would have listened if she tried-’ She shrugs ‘Of course we never thought she’d need it…’ She brushes roughly at her eyes and laughs a little. ‘Goodness look at me- you must think I’m an absolute mess-’

‘Actually, I think you’re doing a wonderful job. Really. Cathy looks so well and happy- you should be proud. She’s a lucky girl. To have you, I mean.’

(It’s the second time someone has called her lucky to have Catalina. And she is. She really is. She decides she’ll tell her one day herself.)

‘God I hope she thinks so, one day.’ Catalina tries to make it sound jokey but it doesn’t really work. 

‘I’m sure she will.’

There’s a moment, as Catalina fumbles with a tissue (she must have a cold, even though she hasn’t been sneezingJ and jane waits and pretends to rummage in her purse for nothing. Then she straightens up and smiles at Catalina.

‘Shall we go and tell the girls it’s all on after all?’

Catalina smiles back.

‘Let’s go.’


	5. Chapter 5

She has a little moment of worry as she pushes open the door to  the spare room her room: it’s a bit smaller than her old room, which means it’s a  _ lot _ smaller than Anne’s room, and what if they can’t play properly. 

(What if Anne regrets coming over?)

(Anna probably has a huge bedroom).

It turns out though that Inca Princess Burial can be played just as well in Cathy’s new bedroom as her old bedroom- although Anne does look at her strangely for a second when she suggests it.

It takes Cathy a moment to understand- because Inca Princess Burial is their BEST game, and since it can’t be played properly in the playground, they don’t even try, which means they haven’t played it for  _ ages. _

First, she’s scared that Anne just doesn’t want to play- perhaps she’s grown out of it since then, perhaps she’d rather be playing something else (something cool and german and grown-up) with Anna.

But then Anne says they don’t  _ have to _ if she doesn’t want, and then she understands, and immediately wishes she didn’t.

Of course. Anne thinks she might not want to play Inca Princess Burial now that she’s played ‘Real Life Burial’ (except it wasn’t playing, it wasn’t a game.)

_ Her new black dress was too tight around her arms and she was glad because it gave her something else to think about, even though the red marks stayed on her skin until bedtime.  _

_ She scuffed her shoes drawing a pattern in the dust outside the church and Catalina looked but she didn’t tell her off, didn’t even tell her to stop, and no one else did either, even when she did it harder, on purpose. _

_ It made her want to cry, the horrible difference in everything, the reminder that she was different now, an orphan, with an orphan’s privilege of no one caring if she messed up her things or not.  _

_ Catalina stood very straight, as if she was afraid of falling off balance, and smiled a tight smile at all the people who came to shake their hands and say they were ‘so sorry….such a tragic loss….so very sad’. _

_ She watched Catalina’s expression all day, so she could copy- she wasn’t sure how her face was meant to look on a day like this. _

_ A woman with sprayed-stiff silvery-blonde hair leant in close and asked if Catalina hadn’t thought about getting Cathy ‘smartened up’ for the funeral, which made no sense because she was already wearing a new dress and new shoes- it made her wonder if she’d spilled something on herself, except she couldn’t have done- she’d pushed away her breakfast that morning and Catalina hadn’t pushed it. She hadn’t understood what the woman meant- but Catalina seemed like she did.  _

_ (‘I really hope you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, Margot.’  _

_ ‘Just….you can get some really wonderful hair-straightening treatments nowadays-’ _

_ Catalina squeezed Cathy’s fingers so tightly it hurt. ‘If you think I’m going to damage my goddaughters beautiful natural hair for some ridiculous standards of-’  _

_ She broke off. ‘Cathy’s hair comes from her mother. The mother she is having to say goodbye to. Do you really think she needs to be made to think that’s something she should be ashamed of?’  _

_ The woman huffed something about ‘only trying to help’, her high heels making cross clicky sounds on the wooden floor as she walked away and Catalina leant down.  _

_ ‘She’s an idiot, mija. Promise me not to listen to people like her.’ She’s not quite sure what she’s meant to be not-listening to but she nods anyway and Catalina pulls her into a fierce hug.) _

_ She hadn’t cried when the wooden boxes disappeared behind the curtain, even though everyone else was. She knew mum and dad were meant to be inside the boxes but somehow, she couldn’t believe it. The boxes were too small. _

_ She hadn’t even cried when the third person whisper-asked Catalina if she was ‘really sure about taking it all on’, even though she knew that she was the it.  _

_ She didn’t cry and she didn’t even shout or kick out at the people asking, although she wanted to (she wanted to ask them why they were asking Catalina these scary sort of questions now, she wanted to ask what would happen to her if Catalina decided to answer in the negative…. But she didn’t.)  _

_ Catalina just smiled a not-real smile at all of them and cut most of them off before they’d finished talking.  _

_ ‘Really ready for the burden of-’ _

_ ‘Of course Cathy is staying with me.’ The questioner- a stooped man with egg mayonnaise from the buffet table staining his tie- winced a bit at her loud tone, as if he’d rather Catalina match his hushed tones. _

_ ‘And you’re-’ _

_ ‘She’s my goddaughter.’ Catalina squeezed Cathy’s hand tight- she hadn’t let go all day and it made Cathy feel a tiny bit less lost, a bit less like she might disappear altogether.  _

_ ‘Of course she stays with me.’  _

_ She nods, like the conversation is finished, and starts tugging Cathy quickly away, although there’s nowhere in particular they need to be.  _

_ Outside, the wind whips at their skirts. The sky is cold iron grey but Catalina's hands over hers are warm.  _

_ ‘It’s going to be ok, mija. It’s going to get easier. I know it doesn’t feel like that now but it will.’ _

_ She doesn’t answer but Catalina doesn’t seem to mind- not then, and not when she doesn’t answer anyone else either, all the people who tell her that they’re very sorry, that she’s gotten so big now, even the stupid woman with the too-bright lipstick who tells her that she’s a lucky girl to have such a nice new dress.  _

_ She gives them all the same blank stare until they get uncomfortable and look away- the stare of someone who can’t be hurt, who doesn’t need anyone or anything, who can’t feel anything at all. _

_ Catalina doesn’t seem to mind- and when she can’t keep it up and bursts into stupid tears later that evening (after spilling the cocoa Catalina made her on her favourite pajamas), Catalina doesn’t seem to mind that either, just scoops her into her arms and rocks her back and forth without a word, which is good, becasue she can’t think of any words that would make her feel better. _

It makes her feel a bit shaky for a moment- she wonders if it’s wrong to want to play a game about burying someone when she’s seen people buried for real…. But then she remembers what catalina told her when she asked if it was still ok to read and watch tv and do other normal things when mum and dad were gone.

(‘They want you to be happy, querida. It’s alright to be sad but it’s alright to be happy- to do things that make you happy too. It’s what they would want.’)

Catalina’s voice is so strong in her head that it actually drowns out some of the shaky-anxious thoughts- she’s able to smile at Anne.

‘Are you sure you want to play that?’

‘Yeah. I'm sure.’

She does still wonder if they’ll be able to play the same in her new bedroom but it’s ok, it’s just as good- perhaps even better, because when Catalina knocks on the door with chocolate biscuits, she says they can use the sheets from Cathy’s bed AND her bed as embalming bandages, and that means she can entomb Anne really  _ authentically _ .

(They have to promise to put fresh sheets on both the beds when they’re done but, as anyone who has played Ince Princess Burial will know, it’s completely worth it.)

She entombs Anne as thoroughly as she can, until Anne starts whining that she can’t breathe- and then they have the  _ excellent  _ idea to include the things Mrs James taught them about Egyptian burial last week.

(They decide it doesn’t matter that the Inca’s didn’t use the Egyptian mummification methods. Anne reckons they probably would have done if they’d known about them. Or maybe they wouldn’t, but still, it makes the game even better, which for a game as good as Inca Princess Burial, is quite an achievement.)

They don’t have a proper hook, or even anything that can be used as a hook, but it’s still lots of fun doing the brain-through-the-nose bit (even if she keeps telling Anne that the real mummies were dead and wouldn’t have screamed  _ quite  _ so dramatically.)

Catalina and Jane come in when they’ve only just started, both holding half drunk cups of coffee and looking a bit panicked, but they calm down once they explain it’s part of the game.

Jane murmurs something to Catalina about ‘sugar and spice and all things nice’ that makes Catalina give a very un-Catalina-like snort of laughter, and then tells them they can have an ice lolly if they promise to move onto the next part of the game right now.

The idea of an ice lolly is tempting BUT they decide in favour of continuing the mummification process to the letter, as much as they can. 

Jane laughs when they tell her what they’ve decided and tells Catalina it was ‘worth a try’, and Cathy decides she likes Jane more than Anne’s real mum or dad. 

(She doesn’t like the way Anne’s mum will ask a question and then look around like she’s bored when she’s answering, and although she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she’s still a tiny bit scared of Anne’s dad after he shouted at them for playing snakes and ladders with the ladder the house painters had left propped against the wall. 

She hadn’t even been on the ladder- just the snake at the bottom, hissing and trying to catch and devour Anne’s kicking feet- but she’d still wanted to run away and hide when he roared at them and she’d been glad when her parents had come to pick her up soon after.)

At least, they try to follow the mummification process to the letter: Cathy  _ really  _ doesn’t want to use up all of her strawberry flavoured lip balm which is what will happen if they use it as embalming ointment. Anne asks if she wants the Inca Princess to just be buried un-embalmed and rot and rain down curses on them all, so she asks Anne if she wants to be left without a pretend-lipstick next time they want to play Business Woman Detective? 

Anne says she’ll just borrow some from Mary or from her mum, even though even Cathy knows Mary doesn’t wear lipstick anymore and that Anne isn’t allowed in her mum’s bedroom ever ever and no exceptions...but she doesn’t sound like she really means it, so they just skip the embalming part. (The Inca Princess will probably understand.)

(She sometimes wants to ask Anne how the no-going-into-the-bedroom actually works- what does Anne do if she doesn’t feel well? What if she has a bad dream? What if there’s a powercut? What if robbers break in? She can think of a thousand what-if’s but she doesn’t ever ask Anne. Perhaps she doesn’t  _ really  _ want to hear the answer.)

(She’s very, very, very glad Catalina doesn’t have the same rule though, especially when it thunders.)

They’re half way through gathering up things to use as Offerings and Sacrifices (the coveted sparkly shoes, and Cathy’s favourite stuffed otter, and the specially-nice books Catalina sent her last Christmas with the covers made of cloth and the titles stamped in gold) when Catalina calls them for tea.

They’re both starving.

(Burials are SUCH hard work.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Cathy finally get their playdate! Apologies for how long this has taken-I've wanted to write this chapter for weeks but life got in the way.
> 
> Apologies also for the angst- this was meant to be pure fluff and silliness but somehow the angst sneaked in....
> 
> Cathy and Anne strike me as kids who would come up with really excellent games. Did anyone else play super dark games as a child? I feel like often kids in fics get written as so just....cute and innocent whereas I remember, when I was about 7, we had this game where we played we were abused dying children in a hospice, and another game which was a bit like a soap-opera where every playtime another one of of us would have cancer or be getting divorced....
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Please please leave a review if you liked it or have thoughts- they're my lifesblood!


	6. Chapter 6

It’s a bit of a squeeze to get all four of them around Catalina’s smallish table but they manage it.

Anne says it’s lucky Kitty isn’t there, or they wouldn’t be able to fit and Catalina says she’s sure they’d find space and she and Jane exchange a grown-up sort of smile that means it’s about more than how many people can fit around a table.

‘Where is Kitty today?’ Catalina finishes putting the leftover pasta in the fridge and joins them at the table.

Jane takes a sip of water. ‘She’s staying with her daddy for a while- it’s good for them to spend some time together.’ 

(Her tone is quite light but there’s a pinched anxious look that Jane can’t quite hide when she says it, like she’s trying to convince herself as well as them that this is a good thing.)

‘I don’t have to share my bedroom anymore!’ Anne pipes up, twirling her fork like a baton. ‘I can sleep with the light off now that Kitty’s gone-’

(Cathy decides not to point out that the likelihood of Anne actually wanting to sleep with the light off is zero.)

‘Sweetheart, you know it’s just for a few weeks. It’s only temporary.’

‘That’s not what Uncle Edmond said- he said he was going to take Kitty back to live with him and Marcia- that’s his girlfriend’ Anne adds, for Catalina’s benefit, and she and Cathy giggle.

(Cathy has already heard all about Marcia, and her very-long fingernails and how she knows how to make the pictures she takes on her phone look like the people in them are wearing make up even when they’re not and how she and Uncle Edmond came to visit at Anne’s house and stood in the kitchen for ages doing big movie-star kisses right in the walk-in pantry.)

Jane’s pinched look becomes a bit more pronounced. ‘He was angry, he didn’t mean it really- Anne, please stop that before you put someone’s eye out!’

‘Jane and Uncle Edmond had a fight on Saturday’ Anne announces, letting her fork drop to the table with a clatter and picking up her glass of orange juice. ‘He said you were stealing Kitty away-’

‘It wasn’t a fight’ Jane corrects, then turns to Catalina. ‘He knows she’s settled where she is- he just wants to see her a bit more which I fully support.’ She says the last bit almost as if it’s Catalina arguing with her, even though she hasn’t said anything. ‘Which is why Kitty is going to be with him for a while, let them have some time together, just the two of them-’

‘And Marcia. She said she’s going to be Kitty’s new Mummy.’

Jane looks as if she’s having to hold herself together. ‘I’m sure she was just…. Edmond wouldn’t- She’s just being a bit overenthusiastic…..’ She’s blinking a little bit too much and Catalina puts a hand on her arm. 

‘It’s ok- I’m sorry, it’s none of my business, you don’t need to explain it to me, I know families can be complicated.’

She’s apologising although she didn’t ask anything- she’s apologising to smooth things over, Cathy suddenly thinks. (It hasn’t occurred to her before that you could say sorry for a thing that wasn’t your fault.)

‘It’s quite alright-’ Jane forces a smile at Catalina and takes up her fork again. ‘Jocasta- Kitty’s mother- is- was….my closest friend- It’s hard, you know?’

Catalina nods, like she understands, and Cathy supposes that she does. It occurs to her that she and Kitty have that in common, except that Kitty at least still has her dad-

Jane’s phone starts to buzz and she pushes back her chair, frowning when she sees the number. She gets up as if to go- except there really aren’t many places to be in Catalina’s flat, so she just ends up standing a few feet away, her back to them.

Catalina tells Cathy and Anne to finish their pasta and let Jane take her call in peace but even while chewing, they can all hear everything.

‘Edmond, hello-’ Jane sounds worried but like she’s trying to force the worry away, to pretend it’s not there at all. ‘How are things going?’

She listens. ‘What? Sorry- there’s static- is Kitty ok? Has something happened? Where are you?…… No, don’t go there- I’m not even at home right-….. A friend of Anne’s, not that it matters. I do have my own-’ 

She sighs, like she’s giving up ‘Sorry, sorry, I just- look, what’s happened? Has something- I thought she was meant to stay with you until the third?’ 

As she listens, her face changes- anxiety, anger, sadness, all together. ‘That’s hardly-…… I wouldn’t call that-….. Edmond, she’s only four!’ 

Anger is definitely winning now. 

‘She barely knows you, of course she’s not settling yet- you just have to be patient with her, give her some time…. Trouble? Edmond, she’s a child, you have to actually look after her you know- like I told you, check she’s dressed warmly enough, ask her if she needs the bathroom, ask her if she needs a drink, ask her if she’s hungry…. You know she’s shy, she doesn’t like to ask for things-’

There’s another pause.

‘Well, why doesn’t she have a coat?’ Jane demands. She’s pacing a bit now, biting the skin of her thumb.

‘I offered to pack her bag so this wouldn’t happen, you know I did- if she doesn’t have everything she needs now, then as her father, couldn’t you……..Oh please no-’ 

Suddenly, it’s like all the fight goes out, it sounds like she’s pleading. 

‘Please no- Edmond, honestly, she was so excited to see you, you have no idea…. She’ll be crushed- What?….. No actually I think she WILL notice if you drop her home two weeks early, she’s not a baby….’

Her voice gets sharper, she sucks in her breath.

‘That’s a horrible thing to say about your own daughter- she’s just scared, she loves you but she doesn’t know you yet, you just have to wait for her to get comfortable around you…’

She’s almost begging. ‘Edmond, please, please, she’s your child. For Jocasta’s sake, couldn’t-…..’ 

And then it’s like a switch is flipped and Jane is nearly shouting down the phone, unexpectedly crossly for such a nice looking woman.

‘How dare you, you know I- don’t you dare, Edmond, don’t you dare!’ Cathy’s stopped eating- she notices Anne has too. Catalina has gotten up and is trying to get them both to leave the table, but Anne’s staring at Jane, wide eyed, and won’t leave her chair, and she’s gripping Cathy’s hand so tight that her fingernails are digging into her palm.

‘I swear Edmond, if you tell her I don’t want her I will-’ Jane’s voice breaks and she has to press a hand to her mouth; her voice is muffled. ‘Look- I’m going to get home as fast as I can- don’t you dare leave her unless I’m there…. Promise me! Promise-’

Slowly Jane lowers her phone and stares at it for a moment, her breath coming faster.

‘Jane?’

She looks up- Anne has left her seat and crept around the table, hovering.

Jane blinks at her for a moment as if she doesn’t recognise her- and then Anne sniffs and Jane hurries over to wrap her in a hug.

‘Is Kitty ok? What’s happened?’

‘It’s ok-’ Jane is clutching Anne to her almost fiercely. ‘It’s all ok, sweetheart- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just….’ She moves back and takes a deep breath. ‘Kitty is fine, I promise. She’s just coming back a little bit early, ok?’

‘Why?’

‘She….just is. Plans change sometimes, you know?’ 

‘Good.’ Anne leans in Jane again and buries her face in her neck, in a way that Cathy has never seen her do with her own mum. ‘I miss her, I don’t really mind sharing my room-’

‘I know you don’t, darling.’ Jane presses a kiss to the top of her head and then stands up, turning to Catalina. ‘Look….I’m sorry- that you had to hear that and that I have to ask you for a favour so soon-’

‘Not at all’ Catalina waves the hand that Cathy isn’t clinging (Anne isn’t the only one who found the phone call a bit scary) to in a ‘dont-worry’ sort of way. ‘Whatever I can do-’

‘-but could you keep Anne here while I go and get Kitty? I don’t want Anne to have to see-’ She stops herself. ‘I just think it would be better….’

‘Of course.’ Catalina nods confidently and then steps forward and puts her hand on Jane’s arm. ‘I understand completely- just let me know what I can do-’

‘Thank you-’

‘If you need me to take Anne home later-’

‘Thank you, we’ll…..see. I really thought this time-’ Jane bites her lip as if pushing something deep inside. ‘Thank you, for being so accommodating- I really owe you-’

‘It’s nothing-’

They can hear Jane’s hurried footsteps as the door closes behind her and suddenly Cathy feels so very, very grateful that she’s her and not Anne, that it’s not Catalina having to rush off to rescue someone from something….

(She isn’t sure exactly what is happening with Kitty. But she knows it isn’t good.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super short, so apologies! I promise this story hasn't been abandoned, I'm just working on a lot of other stuff too (and it embarrassingly took me months to be able to solve the problem of 'How to have Cathy actually see Kitty and Edmund?' Answer: Jane's car is a falling apart nightmare of a car because she can't afford to get it fixed!)  
> I do have part 2 of this chapter in the works too.  
> Thank you all for the lovely comments thus far and I hope you're all doing ok in lockdown wherever you are xx
> 
> I also spent twenty minutes googling 'modern children's tv' because I have no idea what kids watch nowadays and got so confused that I just picked what I remembered as being super irritating. Yes, I know Hilary Duff is a full adult now. Lets just say this is an au in which all media I enjoyed in the 90s/early 2000s is still super current and relevant and Cool.

There’s a silence after the door slams shut- the kind that’s not the same as just ‘quiet’. Quiet is peaceful, quiet is drifting to sleep when the flat is dark and still, quiet is walking with feather-light footsteps down the hall to sneak a look under Catalina’s bed for birthday presents (a wasted trip, as it turns out- nothing but dust and a suitcase of cracked brown leather and a paperback book lying face down with it’s pages splayed out.)

(She’d never treat her own books like that.)

This silence is like an emptiness- an absence. It’s the sound of Jane not being there, it’s the sound of the games that she and Anne should be in the middle of not getting played, because instead of Murder Detective Barbie and Beanie Baby Fight Club and Henry-The-Eighth-But-The-Wives-Win (a new game, since they’ve only just started this new history topic, but it’s shaping up excellently, and it’s nearly as much fun stuffing pillows under their tshirts and being Henry and doing lots of dramatic being-beheaded screams as it is picking a wife and acting out the actual beheading)....instead of that, there’s just nothing.

There’s Anne looking around like the living room as if she’s still sort of hoping Jane is going to pop out from behind the sofa, and there’s Catalina with a worried crease between her eyes even as she’s trying to smile and asking if they want to watch Lizzie Mcguire (something that Cathy usually has to beg for because Catalina claims that it gives her a headache) as if she can bribe them into being okay.

The episode has barely begun when the phone rings again- and just the sound of it makes her stomach clench, and from how Anne grips onto her hand so far her nails are digging right in, she can tell Anne feels the same.

They’ve both had enough of telephone calls ruining things today.

Catalina takes it into the hall but the walls are thin and the door isn’t even all the way closed- she can hear Catalina talking in the very calm voice that she does sometimes, and it makes Cathy wonder who could be calling because she’s never heard Catalina talk like that to anyone except her (and once to a little boy in the library who was lost and couldn’t stop crying long enough to even say his name).

‘....That’s awful timing, I’m so sorry-....What? No, don’t be silly-’ She talks a bit louder. ‘There’s no sense in you wasting your money on a cab when I could take you now- we’ll be there all the sooner- Ok. I’ll get the girls and- Ok. We’ll be right down.’

The door opens.

‘Get your shoes, girls.’ Before Cathy can even open her mouth to ask why (or to ask, just out of curiosity, whether the offer of Lizzie Maguire is likely to expire in the time it will take them to go out and do whatever they’re doing and then come back), Catalina adds that Jane is having ‘a little car trouble’ and that they’re all going to drive Jane to pick up Kitty.

On the way downstairs, Anne perks up a bit and whispers that Jane’s ‘car trouble’ is where she learned ‘bloodybloodyhell’ which sounds like one long word but isn’t and which was gifted to her last Easter when the quite-little-funny-clanking-noise turned into really-quite-a-big-scary-clanking-noise and the trip to the park turned into a trip to the garage and she and Kitty got petrol-station Kinder Eggs for Easter instead of proper eggs because, as it turns out, big-scary-clanking-noises are VERY expensive to fix. 

Cathy knows this story already- Anne has already told her, and everyone else in class, achieving a brief but enjoyable period of notoriety throughout Year Two as knowing The Worst Swear Word until Michael Ryson learned ‘Fuck’ from his big stepbrother in Year Six, ousting Anne very thoroughly indeed. 

(She doesn’t tell Anne she knows the story already.)

*

Outside, Jane is looking pink and flustered and she keeps thanking Catalina and trying to give her petrol money, and Catalina keeps telling her that she wouldn’t dream of taking it and it’s no trouble at all.

She and Anne listen to them argue have a brief, heated competition to see who can roll their window up and down the most times- until Catalina clears her throat and says that if they break the car-window-mechanism, they’ll be paying out of their pocket money until they are grey haired old ladies, and Jane gives a snort of laughter and stops looking quite so flustered and the air in the car feels suddenly lighter.

And then they pull up to Jane’s house.

And they can hear crying.

And things go back to being scary again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced emotional abuse and mild neglect of a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this is not a good chapter- it could even just be titled 'Kitty Suffers'.
> 
> Honestly, I'm not even sure why I wanted to write it so much, other than the fact that child abuse/neglect gets brought up semi-regularly in fics and from what I can see, it's nearly always resolved by the characters getting rescued and everything is then ok. I sort of wanted to explore the more every-day mundane sort of neglect that I feel like most people at least brush up against in their lives- where stuff is Not Ok but not enough Not Ok for anything to really be properly fixed in any official capacity and what you end up with are just well-meaning people trying to fill in the gaps themselves but never able to quite manage totally.  
> I also wanted to explore the idea that things don't need to be intentionally awful for them to be horrible from the perspective of a child (you wouldn't call 'Being Brought A Toy' abuse but it can still be a not-fun experience) and also the way that people can get really cross if a child doesn't react 'properly' i.e how they're expected to.
> 
> So yes. Apologies for there not really being a plot.  
> Do please leave comments/feedback if you have any, I love getting them so very much!

Before Catalina has even stopped the car properly, Jane has unclipped her seatbelt and is pushing her door open- and it’s funny to see Jane doing something that Catalina and Mum and Dad and a multitude of other adults have all solemnly sworn again and again will result in inevitable, painful and horrible death,.

(Jane doesn’t die horribly. Cathy thinks this is a good thing, not least because it would really ruin the playdate. And it’s already been pretty bad, as things go.)

Catalina tells them both to stay in the car- but she doesn’t: she gets out and hovers, like she isn’t sure where to stand or what to do or even if she should be there at all.

The car in front of them is parked crookedly, half of it on the pavement. The doors are sticking out into the street, as if they’ve been flung open and then just left, and there’s a tall man, tapping away on a phone and doing a quick, impatient sort of walk back and forth: three steps towards the car, then a turn, then four steps down the street like he’s just remembered he’s got somewhere else to be, and then another jerky turn and back to the car again, while he huffs and puffs like a teakettle.

It looks a little funny- or it would look funny, if everything wasn’t so off.

He’s dressed like anyone else but there’s something scary about him: he looks so angry that Cathy bets you’d be able to feel the waves of crossness coming off him, like heat from the oven when the door is opened. She hasn’t ever seen him before (and honestly she wouldn’t mind not seeing him again ever, especially when he hits the bumper of his car with the flat of his hand so hard that she’s surprised it doesn’t leave a mark) but she knows who he is- Anne’s Uncle Edmund, and Kitty’s dad.

She knows that because he’s standing outside Jane’s house, because Jane greets him with a curt ‘ _ Edmund _ ’ said through lips so tight it shouldn’t be possible for her to talk (he replies with a  _ Jane _ that sounds like he’s sneering, even though he’s just saying her name)- and because Kitty is standing right next to him. 

Kitty’s not actually the person making the crying noise, it turns out- there’s a family crossing the road with a baby in a pushchair, covered in icecream and screaming bloody murder- and so for a moment, Cathy thinks that maybe she’s ok, but then- the she realises that she….isn’t.

She isn’t ok, but she isn’t curled up on the floor and she isn’t screaming or stamping or doing anything at all really- she’s just standing there stiffly, an unwieldy stuffed animal in her arms that’s nearly as big as she is, that she’s holding away from herself like she doesn’t want it to touch anything. 

She’s shooting little glances up at Edmund, like she can feel the anger radiating off him too but rather than burning her, it’s freezing her where she stands.

She looks very small.

Anne unclips her seatbelt, like she’s going to get out of the car too, but Catalina notices and shoots them both a very stern look and Anne subsides back into the back seat. She grips Cathy’s hand as they watch.

When Jane kneels in front of Kitty, asking if she’s alright and if she had a nice time and admiring her huge stuffed-something (it’s a Mickey Mouse, Cathy realises, with wide open eyes and a very pink tongue), 

Kitty doesn’t even move. She doesn’t put down the doll, she doesn’t try to give Jane a hug, she doesn’t say anything- but her eyes get very big and Cathy realises she’s crying but without hardly making a sound and it’s just...sadder than anything, even though she’s seen people cry before.

Perhaps it’s sadder because Kitty isn’t screaming, she isn’t wailing or trying to explain or even doing the eyes-screwed-shut-head-back-making-as-much-noise-as-possible crying that the icecream kid is doing further down the street.

Instead, it’s like she’s doing everything she can to make herself as small and as quiet and as little trouble as possible, like they might not even notice she’s upset if she’s really careful- and  _ that _ , Cathy realises,  _ that’s _ the saddest thing.

Jane is somehow managing to do gentle soft talking to Kitty as she tries to get her to put down the Mickey Mouse so she can wipe her face with a tissue (while Kitty flinches, like loosening her hold on it will lead to it getting snatched away, which Cathy thinks is probably unlikely since it’s a bit creepy looking and not something you’d want to steal)- while also doing lots of cross snapping at Edmund over her shoulder.

‘ _ It’s alright, sweetheart, it’s alright _ \- Why doesn’t she have a coat on Edmund? For god’s sake, I tried to tell you- _ ’ _

‘Look give me a break, I did my best-’ He rolls his eyes. ‘It was hard enough getting her the dress, I thought you said she was doing better in shops now-’

‘She  _ is  _ doing better but you have to be patient, you know she doesn’t like crowds. Of course, if you’d just let me pack for her like I wanted to-  _ I promise nothing will happen to it if you put it down a moment, Kitty-Kat- _ ’

‘Yeah, yeah, we all know no one can possibly look after a child as well as you can, I get the message. I don’t know what you’ve done to turn her against me, but you’ve obviously done a fantastic job- do you have any idea how hard it was to get her to answer a single question? Like pulling bloody teeth!’

‘She doesn’t  _ know  _ you!’ Jane snaps. ‘Of course she’s shy-’

  
  
  


Edmund is still looking at his phone- or at least, he’s holding it in front of his face but it looks more like he’s using it as a reason to not to have to look at Jane at all.

He’s snapping too.

‘I’m her  _ father! _ She’s got no reason to be shy of me-’

‘That’s not how it works and you know it! If you could only-’

‘Oh god another lecture from the childcare expert who doesn’t even have her own kids.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘God Jocasta probably counts herself lucky she isn’t around to have to listen to the nag-nag-nagging, you must have driven her crazy while she was pregnant-’

Catalina steps forward at this point, like she’s going to say something, and then steps back like she’s thought better of it, and Cathy thinks it’s funny, that she’s never really seen Catalina decide not to give an opinion on something ever.

‘Don’t you dare-’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He shakes his head and gives a bitter laugh. ‘I’ve honestly got to hand it to you though- I didn’t think you could be doing a worse job if you tried. Have you messed her up to get back at me or something?’

‘What are you talking about?’

He leans in. ‘Making her the way she is. Scared of everything, scared of me. Just like you- can’t ever just let things go, can’t ever let anything be fun. Normal kid, you take them out, get them a couple of toys, nice food. This one-’ He shakes his head again. ‘Try to get her to have fun like the other kids and she reacts like you’re forcing her down a mine or up a chimney- shouldn’t she have grown out of tantrums by now? She’s- what, five?’

‘She’s  _ four. _ And I keep trying to tell you, she isn’t a doll, Edmund. You can’t just….bring her out when you want to look good and make her have fun because you think she should be having fun. Believe it or not, she doesn’t exist for your convenience!’

‘You’ve got that right- remind me never to try to do anything for her again. Can’t even buy her an icecream without there being a hassle, she doesn’t want it, she feels sick, just whine whine whine-’

‘Don’t tell me you couldn’t even remember she gets carsick-’

‘Oh I’ll remember  _ now _ \- I’ll send you an invoice for the car cleaning…’

The fight is horrible to listen to and Cathy feels sick, but eventually, Edmund throws up his hands in an  _ I-Give-Up  _ way, climbs back into the car and slams the door and roars off without saying goodbye to anyone.

The minute he’s gone, Kitty loses her grip on the toy- and Cathy hopes that means she’s going to let Jane take her to the car and they can all go back to doing normal things and maybe even finish one of the games they haven’t got round to- but instead, she wails ‘ _ Daddy-’ _ and tries to run to where the car used to be- and then she realises she’s dropped the scary looking bear thing and her face crumples up with shock and she starts crying even harder.

She can hear Jane, her voice as soft and gentle as it was harsh and snappy just a minute ago.

‘Sweetheart, it’s ok, he just had to get back-’

Cathy thinks she could tell Jane that Kitty doesn’t look all that interested in doing anything other than chasing after the horrible car with the horrible man- but then after a couple of minutes, Kitty manages to gulp back a sob.

‘Daddy l-left-’ Her face crumples again.

‘He’s very busy, sweetheart. It’s not your fault, you haven’t done anything wrong-’

‘He’s  _ gone-’ _

There’s the edge of wail in her voice and Cathy thinks that it’s a bit strange that while Edmund was here, Kitty was too scared to even move but now he’s gone, she’s crying like the world has fallen to pieces.

‘Jane, make him come back!’

‘I can’t Kitty-Kat, I’m sorry.’ Jane sounds almost like she might cry too. ‘But he’s  _ very _ sorry he had to leave and he loves you very much-’

Cathy doesn’t think she heard Edmund say anything like that to Jane- from what she could hear, the last thing he said was ‘ _ swearword swearword _ Satnav’, accompanied by a bang on the dashboard. 

(At least, she thinks they’re swear words. She isn’t sure and she thinks it isn’t the sort of thing Catalina will tell her but she also knows that if she just says them, she can probably judge by reaction. 

She knows she probably shouldn’t try that now though.)

Kitty’s looking after the car- although it’s way out of sight now- like she could bring it back just by wanting it- and then she looks down at the toy on the floor and bursts into fresh tears that don’t stop even when Jane picks up back up and dusts off it’s shiney black ears.

‘It’s ok- look-’ Jane tries to show Kitty it’s pristine fur. ‘It’s fine, sweetheart-’

‘Daddy said I had to look after it and now it’s  _ dirty _ -’

‘It’s not dirty-’

‘But it’s been on the  _ floor _ !’ Kitty wails, and it’s obvious that the fact that the horrible thing doesn’t have a mark on it makes no difference at all. ‘Daddy will be so  _ cross _ -’

‘I’m sure he won’t be-’

‘He will be-’ Kitty looks down at herself. ‘He was so cross that I ruined my dress but I didn’t mean to Jane, really really I didn’t-’

For the first time, Cathy notices what Kitty is wearing and it’s funny because the times she’s seen Kitty before this, she’s been wearing various shades of pink with the odd bit of purple here and there- soft t shirts and cardigans as fluffy as candyfloss and cute little dungarees that remind Cathy of the clothes you can buy in Build A Bear.

(They’re like bigger versions of the teddy bear clothes that make Catalina snort when she looks at the prices because according to her, you could buy some real baby clothes and probably an  _ actual real _ baby for less- except last time she said it a bit too loud and a lady holding an actual baby glared at her. 

That’s why her Build-A-Bear dragon has a wizards cloak instead of the outfit she had all picked out in her head. She’d sort of wanted roller skates for her dragon too but Catalina had said she was buying one set of roller skates for Cathy’s birthday and that it was up to Cathy to pick whether they would be human size or dragon-size and in the end, she’d picked human-size so now her dragon has to watch instead of skate. It doesn’t really matter though. Her dragon has wings after all.)

Anyway, Kitty isn’t actually dressed in her usual pink cotton. She’s wearing a dress- even though it’s quite cold- a dress that looks just a bit too big for her, stiff with sequins and bits of netting that make the skirt stick out and little rosebuds. It isn’t pink, it’s silvery blue.

It’s  _ beautiful _ , the sort of dress that makes her think of  _ special-occasions-only _ clothes, except this dress is ten times nicer than any  _ special-occasions-only _ clothes she’s ever had or ever imagined having. It’s like a princess dress, a bridesmaids dress, a dress too nice to be a dressing-up outfit because you can tell just by looking that it’s expensive…. but it also looks like the sort of dress you’d have to be careful in. 

She thinks about how Kitty’s current favourite game (according to Anne) is just crawling around on the floor and pretending to be a cat (which means Anne has to do some serious chocolate-button-based bribery now to make Kitty even join in even a single proper game like Vampire Barbie) and how this dress would probably make a game like that difficult and she wonders whether Kitty would consider it a worthwhile trade.

Not that the dress looks like Kitty has been careful in it. From a distance, it’s just a beautful dress but closer up, it's a bit stained and a lot crumpled, like she’s been napping while wearing it, and there’s a dampish purplish patch that looks like ribena on the skirt. Her shoes fit, at least, and her socks too- but her socks look very grubby around her ankles….but then maybe there just wasn’t any money left for new socks after the new dress, perhaps.

Jane looks like she’s just noticing the dress, the socks too.

She makes her voice very calm.

‘It’s not ruined, Kitty-Kat. I can give it a quick wash and it’ll be good as new.’

Kitty shakes her head. ‘Daddy said it was ruined and that I was spoilt and he wasn’t going to buy me nice clothes if I couldn’t look after them.’

Jane’s forehead creases in consternation. ‘I thought he packed some of your own clothes?’

Kitty mumbles something.

‘What was that, sweetheart?’

‘I couldn’t open the zip!’ Kitty sobs ‘It was too stiff and I couldn’t get anything out-’

‘Didn’t Daddy help?’

‘He said I was big enough to learn to do it myself’ Kitty sniffles and Cathy thinks it’s the first times she’s ever heard anyone refer to Kitty as ‘big’.

Jane does a big breath like she’s making herself calm. ‘I’m sorry Kitty-Kat, I should have thought when I was-’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s ok- we’ll run you a nice warm bath and find you some nice clean clothes and we can put your lovely new dress in the wash and keep it for...well, special things. Ok?’

Kitty shrugs like she doesn’t much care what happens to the dress.

‘It’s very pretty- did you pick it out yourself?’

Kitty shakes her head. ‘Mummy chose it.’ 

Jane shakes her head gently. ‘I…..don’t think she did, Kitty-Kat.’

There’s an awkward silence, and Cathy remembers what Anne told her, that Kitty’s mum died before she was old enough to talk.

Kitty nods emphatically. ‘She did-’ She plays with one of the silk roses sewn to the hem of the dress, the threads loose.

‘She can’t have done, sweetheart.’

‘-Daddy said I have to call Marcia mummy now.’ 

Jane’s reaction is silent but Cathy can see the way pain ripples through her, the way her eyes squeeze shut for a second and her mouth twitches, like she’s having to fight to keep herself together. 

‘O-oh-’

‘He said she’s going to be my new mummy.’

‘And- and what did Marcia say?’ Jane’s trying to smile, as if everything is ok, but it’s the sort of smile that looks like it hurts.

Kitty looks away. ‘Don’t know. She brought me that- Because Daddy didn’t pack Pink Kitty.’

‘I know sweetie, I think he forgot-’

‘He didn’t. He said she was dirty. And old. And that I was too big to need her. I told him that Pink Kitty would be scared of the dark without me but he wouldn’t listen.’ Her lip wobbles dangerously. ‘ I missed her so  _ much _ -’

Jane tucked a stray lock of hair behind Kitty’s small ear. ‘She missed you too. She’ll be very happy you’re back to keep her safe.’

‘-and so Marcia made him go to the Disney store and she said we were going to get something else and she said I could get  _ anything-  _ but then she said I was taking too long and she chose for me-’

Cathy feels a spark of jealousy- she wonders if Catalina has any plans to take her to the Disney store and say she can get anything….but she knows it’s unlikely. 

(Catalina says that the Disney store gives her a migraine whenever they go in: ‘It’s too cheerful, it’s too happy, mija!’ Cathy doesn’t know how anything can be too happy. 

She has tried saying that John Lewis gives her a migraine too but Catalina had just nodded ruefully and agreed that it was a horrible, cursed place but that migraine or not, they needed new towels. Buying the towels was boring but  _ cursed  _ is her new favourite word.)

She feels jealous but then she thinks about just how many toys there are at the Disney store, about how long it takes just to look at them all, let alone choose, and about the slightly sick, overwhelmed feeling she had at the bookstore that first time when Catalina bought all her books back. 

She thinks about how crowded it always is in there, how loud the music is, and about how Kitty puts her hands over her ears at even quite normal things- like vacuum cleaners and thunder and cars revving their engines. 

And she thinks about how long Kitty takes to choose anything, and about Anne telling her that they’re not allowed Pick’n’Mix sweets at the cinema anymore, not because they’re  _ daylight robbery  _ which is what Catalina calls them (because Anne’s parents don’t seem to ever talk about money like that) but because Kitty always takes longer than it’s worth to pick her sweets- and she wonders if the Disney store would be proper treat for Kitty or just another thing to be afraid of. 

And then she doesn’t feel quite so jealous anymore.

Not only that, but Kitty doesn’t even seem to like the stuffed animal she got. And no wonder. 

Because even she knows Kitty is deeply afraid of Mickey Mouse. 

Not that she’s actually seen evidence or anything. But Anne has told her. According to Anne, Kitty is also afraid of clowns (Cathy agrees that they’re horrifying even if Anne doesn’t see it)- the space under her bed (which is why it’s Anne’s go-to hiding spot if they play hide and seek) and whales (jointly the fault of the Sunday School Jane took Kitty and Anne to once, who apparently described the idea of being inside a whale's stomach a little too graphically, and of  _ Pinnochio _ , ditto.)

Jane sets the toy on the garden wall. ‘Don’t you like him, Ktty-Kat?’

Kitty nods but she starts crying again too.

‘Didn’t you tell them that you don’t like Mickey?’

Kitty nods tearfully.

‘And they made you get him anyway?’

‘We were out of the shop and Daddy said it was too late and Marcia got cross that it was a waste of money-’

Jane sighs, wearily gathers Kitty up into her arms and stands up. 

‘It’s ok, sweetheart. We can keep him somewhere nice and safe and out of the way where he won’t get dirty and I’ll tell Daddy what good care you’re taking of him when he calls.’ 

Kitty doesn’t seem particularly consoled- she just buries her face into Jane’s neck and mumbles something. She’s holding onto Jane so tightly that her fingers have gone white.

‘Of course I haven’t thrown Pink Kitty away, sweetheart- she’s on your bed where you left her, I promise-’

Another mumble.

‘Of course I’d never throw her away. How about we go get you all cleaned up and sorted out and you can see for yourself?’

Catalina finally steps forward, a bit awkwardly.

‘Do you want me to take Anne home?’

Jane turns, like she’s only just remembering Catalina’s there. ‘Oh god- I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have made you wait like that, I was just-’

Catalina holds up her hands. ‘You were focused on Kitty like you should be- please don’t apologise. I just wanted to check-’

Anne pushes past Cathy and scrambled out of the car so she can cling to the hem of Jane’s shirt. ‘No! I want to stay here-’

Jane adjusts Kitty so she can smooth Anne’s dark hair with her free hand. ‘Are you sure, sweetheart? I don’t think Kitty is going to be up to much more than bath and bed- you won’t have her to play with and I’ll be a bit busy-’

Anne’s face crumples but she blinks bravely.

‘I’ll go home then....if you want me to.’

Her voice is suddenly a bit shaky.

Jane looks stricken.

‘Oh darling, I didn’t mean it like that, I promise. Of course I want you to stay, I just didn’t want you to be bored-’

Anne pauses for a second, like she’s wondering if Jane is really telling the truth- but she obviously decides that she is, because she sniffs and reattaches herself to Jane’s shirt.

‘I won’t be! I promise!’

‘Alright then-’ Jane smiles warmly down at her. ‘I’m so lucky to get to have both of my girls with me together. And…..thank you-’ she adds to Catalina. ‘Thank you…..so much. I don’t quite know how to thank you for everything, but if you need anything at all-’

Catalina waves her away. ‘It’s nothing. I hope everything is ok-’ She glances at Kitty, buried into Jane’s neck and Anne, clinging to Jane with the same white-knuckle grip.

‘Oh it will be’ Jane shrugs and smiles sadly. ‘It’s...not exactly the first time, if you catch my drift.’

‘The girls are lucky to have you.’

‘And Cathy is lucky to have you.’

They smile at one another, and Jane lets go of Anne enough to give Cathy a little wave goodbye through the car window and makes Anne say thank you to Catalina and then they’re going into one of the little houses and the door closes behind them and they’re gone.

*

The rest of the evening is normal- spelling homework like normal, teeth and shower and pajamas like normal. Catalina reads her another chapter of Little Women and even goes to find her phone so they can google what ‘pickled limes’ actually are (they both agree they look disgusting and that Amy and her friends clearly have terrible taste).

She goes to sleep like normal- and then wakes up suddenly, from a dream in which she’s Kitty, alone on the pavement outside of Jane’s house, except that Jane isn’t there yet and Catalina isn’t anywhere and there’s just tall men shouting and stamping and she’s hunched up small as small and hoping they don’t notice her-

Her own bed feels safer but it also makes her think about Kitty and wherever she slept when she was with Edmund. It makes her wonder if Kitty had bad dreams and how it would feel if the bad dream she just had wasn’t a dream at all but something she was living through-

When Catalina comes in, ruffled and sleepy-eyed, she doesn’t ask why she’s crying, just gently dries her wet face, scoops her out of her tangle of duvet and carries her down the dark hallway to her own room, where the covers have been pushed back and the bedside lamp is turned on.

Catalina’s bed is much safer than her own. Bad dreams hardly ever manage to get her when she’s there.

Before she can drift off again, Catalina reminds her that it’s all ok now, that Kitty is with Jane and she and Anne safe and cozy in their own beds and that there’s nothing to worry about.

And Catalina is sort of right, she knows.

But she’s also sort of not.

After all, the only reason Kitty is safe with Jane now is that Edmund got tired of her and brought her back.

Jane wasn’t able to go and rescue her herself.

She presses herself as close to Catalina as she can and tries very, very hard to think about something else.


	9. Chapter 9

**  
**Anne tells her the big news over lunch. **  
**

Cathy is eating lukewarm school pasta; Anne has a _Mary lunch._

(Anne is the only person Cathy knows who has three sorts of school lunches- what they call _Jane lunch, Mary lunch_ and _Fancy lunch._

Usually- when things are normal-ish, when she’s just at home like normal and it’s Mary’s job to take her to school, she gets a Mary lunch, which means whatever sandwich Mary has made in a rush, in between feeding Baby Catherine and getting herself ready and checking Anne is wearing school uniform and not her Ninja turtles tshirt (although sometimes Mary forgets to check the last one). 

Mary lunches are mostly ok, except that they’re usually a bit squashed....although once Mary was SO tired from being up with Baby Catherine she forgot to put in a filling and Anne had to pretend to the other children on the lunch table that she’d just asked for bread and butter that day.

(They didn’t look like they believed her.)

The other end of the scale is a Fancy lunch, and there’s only two times Anne gets one of those: either after the Mary lunch has been especially bad (or when she gets secret lunch option number four- which is actually no lunch at all because Mary forgot to pick up bread, or picked up the bread but forgot the making-the-sandwich part or remembered the bread and the sandwich making part but forgot to put it in Anne’s bag) and their teacher has called Anne over to ask, in hushed tones, Is Everything Alright At Home?

The other time is after something else has slipped a bit (once when Mary was sick, Anne didn’t come to school for two days) and the ‘chat’ has turned into a phone call. 

And that’s when Anne gets a Fancy lunch.

Fancy lunches are never the same but always ten times nicer than whatever anyone else has for lunch that day, because no one actually makes them, Anne’s mum orders them from a special company who spend all their time just making fancy lunches that can fit into a lunchbox- tiny wraps with fancy fillings skewered on cocktail sticks and rolls of rice and seaweed in pretty patterns and little individual quiches. 

The only bad thing about them is that they never last for more than a few days and then lunch making becomes Mary’s job again and it can be a bit disappointing to suddenly get a squashed marmite sandwich instead of the fancy lunch-in-a-box you were expecting.

Jane lunches are sort of in the middle of the two, Cathy supposes. 

They’re never as fancy as the Fancy lunches (Jane doesn’t seem to shop at the places that sell quinoa and lemongrass) and they’re not exciting really, just sandwiches and fruit.

Then again, they always _always_ have things that Anne definitely likes in them, whereas there’s nearly always a bit of the Fancy lunch that she has to pick off and set aside because she doesn’t like it, like the truffles that didn’t look or taste at all like chocolate.

They’re never as pretty as the Fancy lunches either but Jane does things like cutting off the crusts and peeling the apple and cutting it into slices that Anne’s mum never seems to want to do when it’s her actually fixing the food.

(It makes the food taste nice.)

The best thing about Jane’s lunches is that she never gets cross if a bit of it doesn’t get eaten, apart from to ask if Anne wants something else next time. She never gets ‘I don’t know why I even bother paying for nice things for you’ angry like Anne’s dad did when he found out about the uneaten truffles-that-were-really-mushrooms.

And if she’s done any baking- and Jane bakes a LOT- there’s always a biscuit or a little piece of cake or a pastry twist wrapped up carefully in greaseproof paper, ready for Anne to split in half and share with Cathy in return for all the times that Cathy shared her own food on no-lunch days.

Cathy doesn’t have packed lunches now that she’s with Catalina but she has sometimes wondered what they’d be like and she figures they’d probably be closer to the Jane lunches than the Fancy lunches. 

Oddly enough, the thought does not make her feel all that disappointed.

Anne tells her the Big News right away, because she can’t keep secrets, and the big news is that Anne’s getting to have a sleepover for her birthday. 

Cathy asks when and Anne says that it’ll be on the Saturday coming because that’s when her birthday is going to be.

Cathy knows when Anne’s birthday is- she has it written down in the furry purple My Secret Diary that she got for Christmas, because there’s a section to write down things about your friends, and she has Anne written down first because she’s her best friend- and she feels a bit guilty, like maybe she should have remembered.

Anne doesn’t seem to mind though.

Anne says that when she asked her mum the night before what she was doing for her birthday this year, and could they go to Splash Zone again like last year, her mum had nodded and said YesMaybeAskDaddy (which is how she answers lots of things).....and then she’d sat up, and she’d put down her glossy magazine and checked something on her phone and her eyes had gone very wide.

So instead of SplashZone- because now there isn’t time to book it before the weekend, Anne’s getting a sleepover party. 

Part of the treat is the sleepover, according to Anne, and part of the treat is meant to be that she doesn’t have to share the sleepover with Kitty, even though Kitty lives at Anne’s house most of the time.

Anne says she doesn’t mind sharing her bedroom but she IS glad Kitty isn’t going to be at the sleepover. 

According to Anne, Kitty hasn’t been much fun at all since Uncle Edmund dropped her off and she won’t play anything that Anne wants to play anymore, even when Anne offers her usual chocolate button bribe, and it turns out it’s VERY hard to play even easy games like chase when it’s only you.

Actually, Anne isn’t sure if she should be cross about this or not because it’s not just that Kitty won’t play Anne’s games, she doesn’t seem to want to play anything at all: she just clings to Jane’s skirt, waiting for her to finish whatever she’s doing and sit down so that she can she can fold herself up small in Jane’s lap. 

She clings to a handful of Jane’s shirt with one hand and only raggedly old Pink Kitty with the other, like she’s afraid someone is going to take one or both of them away if she lets go, sucking her thumb and not saying a word.

And when she isn’t silent- which is honestly most of the time, according to Anne- she’s having huge screaming tantrums over stupid things like cleaning her teeth or putting on her pajamas. Cathy finds it hard to imagine Kitty- who was quiet as a mouse nearly all the time, even before Edmund- even raising her voice once let alone screaming but Anne assures her that it’s true. 

She says that it’s giving her a headache. 

Her mum and dad and Mary are officially Losing Patience, which is why Kitty is going to be with Jane for a bit.

Officially, it’s as part of Anne’s birthday treat, but Anne thinks they were planning it anyway because she heard Mary complaining to her mum, and then she heard her Mum talking on the phone to someone about being At The End of Her Tether, and she kept shaking her head and looking over at where Kitty was curled up in a little ball on the edge of the sofa, not even watching the tv (although Anne had specially foregone Rugrats for the boring baby program about the baggy pink cat because Kitty liked it). 

Or, Kitty _used_ to like it. 

Now she doesn’t seem to like very much at all anymore.

Mary and Anne’s Mum and Dad don’t seem to mind Kitty being extra quiet but they do mind the tantrums- and the way Kitty has started waking up in the night crying and disturbing everybody when _Some People Have To Work In The Morning Fergodsake_ , and the way the Reception teacher has started to call home because she’s ‘concerned’.

Jane calls round too when she hears that Anne’s dad has taken away the Barbie Kitty got for promising not to suck her thumb anymore, and says they all need to make allowances right now, whatever that means. 

She and Anne’s mum drink cappuccinos- because Anne’s mum has a special expensive new machine that makes them- and Jane talks about _reassurance_ and _sense of security_ and _unconditional love_ , while Anne’s mum talks about _discipline_ and _consequences_ and _legal custody._

Eventually Anne’s mum tells Jane that she’s not a social worker anymore so she needs to stop acting like one, and that Kitty isn’t a baby any more and they need to stop coddling her, that maybe Edmund was right about some things.

And then Jane goes home.

So Kitty won’t be at the sleepover, Anne says. It’ll be just her and Cathy- and Anna. 

Cathy tries to smile and look pleased that Anna’s invited too- it’s not that she doesn’t like her, exactly, it’s just that for Anne’s first sleepover, she’d rather it was just them.

It’s a bit easier to be properly happy when Anne tells Anna because Anna looks excited but also a bit surprised too- as if she’s not expecting to be asked. That makes Cathy feel better. It reminds her that Anna really isn’t out to steal her best friend, which is something Catalina reminds her of whenever she seems to need it.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, my mum said I could have two friends.’ Anne nibbles the crust of her sandwich (peanut butter) delicately, trying to make the edges of the bread straight.

‘I’ll ask Mutti when I get home- she’ll say yes, she’ll be happy I’m making friends-’ Anna beams. ‘I used to have sleepovers back home- back in Germany. With my old friends.’

‘Cool!’

Cathy takes another bite of soggy school lasagne and wonders why Anna always has to bring her old home into everything.

It’s sort of interesting to hear but it also makes her wonder if there’s anything that Anna hasn’t done or seen before everyone else. 

She wants to ask what German sleepovers are like but then she doesn’t.

(Whatever they’re like, they’re probably a hundred times cooler than whatever English sleepovers.)


	10. Chapter 10

Just as Cathy suspected, they hear all about the sleepovers Anna has been on with her friends back in Germany: Greta, who has a swimming pool in the garden that a hedgehog drowned in, and Greta’s Vati had to get it out with a stick, and Hedda, who’s Mutti let them make chocolate crispy cakes for supper, and Sofie, who has an older brother called Mortiz who let them stay in the room while he watched a scary, scary film about a clown that lived in the drain (until Sofie’s Mutti saw what they were watching and gave them popsicles in exchange for promising not to tell their own parents).

It all sounds  _ amazing _ , except that nothing like that will happen at Anne’s sleepover, Cathy knows.

Anne’s family doesn’t have a pool. Also, Anne’s Mum doesn’t let them in the kitchen (Jane lets Anne bake with her sometimes but the sleepover isn’t at Jane’s house, so that’s no good), and although Anne has an older brother (called George), he doesn’t live with them.

(George lives in London. Cathy has never seen him but she knows that he goes to the Royal College of Art, which is like a school you go to when you’re grown up.

It sounded quite exciting when he first went because it sounded like he was going to paint pictures for a king or a queen, and she and Anne wondered if maybe they’d get to visit him and meet a prince or a princess….but it’s actually nothing like that at all.

Not only does George not paint pictures for anyone even a  _ little bit _ royal, he doesn’t paint pictures at all.

Instead, he makes  _ sculptures _ , which are like people made of clay, except Anne hasn’t seen any of them apart from a picture of one she saw by accident that George had sent in a letter. Anne said that the clay person didn’t have  _ any  _ clothes on at all, but that she didn’t really see it properly because her Dad saw she was looking at it and snatched it away and made her go up to her room.

She and Cathy giggled all day at the thought of George spending all his time in London making things like  _ that _ (it’s more evidence that grown ups are really very strange) but Anne’s Mum and Dad don’t find it funny at all, Anne says.

They do lots of cross sighing about  _ waste of money _ and  _ terrible life choices _ and  _ utterly obscene _ whenever Jane asks about him or when he sends them a Christmas card.

The cards always have pictures that aren’t in the LEAST bit Christmassy on them- once, there was just a photo of a dead cow in a tank- and Anne’s mum and Dad sighed and shook their heads and then put the card in a drawer. 

Once, Anne snuck one out for Jane to read to her because George’s handwriting is too scrawly-small for her to decipher.

_ Happy Holidays and all that jazz to little sis, don’t let them grind you down, and tell Janey thanks for her ceaseless efforts to try and smooth stuff over, stay cool _ x

She thinks Jane left some bits out because the card was full of writing, written all smudgy like the pen has been pressed too hard into the page, that would have surely meant more words. 

But Jane just says the rest is grown up stuff that she shouldn’t worry about.

George hasn’t sent a card for a while though. So chances of him being around to let them watch a scary clown film are low.)

It makes Cathy worried that the lack of older-brothers-with-scary-films and/or swimming pools is going to make Anna turn up her nose at Anne’s sleepover- but she seems just as excited as they are when they’re talking about it.

She shows them both where she’s made a little tally of days to tick off until Saturday in her News book (because the sleepover is sort of like news- it’s news-before-it-happens) and after a while, Cathy gets caught up enough in planning the pillow fortress they’ll make that she stops thinking about how annoying it is that Anna talks about Germany All. The. Time. and thinks about how much fun it will be instead.

Because it will be fun.

Even if Anna is there.

Or maybe  _ because  _ Anna will be there because annoyingly….Anna does have some good ideas.

Sometimes.

And as much as she doesn’t want to, as much as she wants to just hope that Anna goes back to Germany one day soon (or at least to another school)...she actually finds that sometimes, she’s really glad Anna  _ is  _ at their school and not at another.

It’s Anna, after all, who has the idea of excavating the big bit of rock that’s sticking half way out of the school field to see if it’s a dinosaur bone that they’ll be able to sell to a museum for lots of money.

(They don’t get very far, because they have to use twigs instead of proper little trowels and brushes but it’s still exciting to think that maybe that IS what it is and to talk about what it would be like to be famous.)

And it’s Anna who teaches the whole class ‘Feur, Wasser, Blitz, Sturm’ which they get to play instead of normal P.E, and they spend the hour flinging themselves flat to avoid the ‘feur’ (which means ‘fire’) and scrambling up the climbing ropes to escape the ‘wasser’ (which is water), and Cathy thinks it’s a thousand times more fun than having to demonstrate again and again that no matter how hard she tries, she cannot do a cartwheel OR stand on her head for the hundredth time.

So.

Having Anna at the school isn’t ALL bad.

Still, it’s very confusing, and Catalina, for once, is no help at all.

She is in fact annoyingly insistent on telling her that she is to always be ‘nice’ to Anna, and she reminds her lots of times that while she doesn’t have to play with Anna if she doesn’t want to, she is  _ absolutely _ not allowed to stop Anne from playing with her or from ever discouraging Anna from playing with Anne  _ and I mean it, mija _ .

She actually looks quite stern and serious when she says it, and it’s a bit uncomfortable to have Catalina look at her like that, so she promises that she won’t.

Still.

It is  _ very _ confusing.

*

The days drag until the weekend but eventually, Saturday comes.

She’s so excited she can’t finish her breakfast, so excited that she can barely sit still.

(She’s going to a sleepover like a- well, not a grown up but like one of the older girls at school, like one of the characters on television. It’s breathtakingly thrilling.)

Catalina walks her to Anne’s parents house and reminds her about brushing her teeth and saying please and thank you, then hugs her so tightly that she nearly can’t breathe.

‘It’s going to be strange not having you in the flat tonight, mija.’

Cathy thinks that’s a funny thing to say when not all that long ago she was never in the flat at all- but before she can say it, she realises she sort of understands what Catalina means. 

It’s exciting because she’s going to stay at Anne’s house ALL night….but also, she realises now….that means she’s not going to be sleeping in her own room.

The thought of sleeping somewhere else- now that she’s thinking about it- is strange. 

Not bad exactly, but...different, and she realises that her bedroom in the flat has become  _ her room _ rather than  _ her-room-at-Catalina’s-flat _ without her even noticing it. 

  
  


She wonders, if she was to sleep in the bedroom of her old house now, whether that would feel like going home or whether it would feel strange. 

She wonders if somehow, by some bit of magic or maybe a genie, she was able to sleep in her old bedroom and have everything back to how it was- Mum and Dad in their room down the hall and all her old books, the copies that Catalina didn’t buy back for her, and the clothes that didn’t fit anymore and that got left behind when she was having to pack her things and the toy farm that she didn’t really play with anymore but that she missed the shape of all the same….she wonders if it would feel normal.

Would it feel normal or would she find herself missing Catalina kissing her goodnight and making sure to close the curtains so that there isn’t even the tiniest gap that a scary face could peep through?

(Catalina once asked her what constitutes a scary face.

‘Like a monster, mija?’

She said no because monsters aren’t real  _ obviously _ but that not being real doesn’t also mean that they couldn’t look through her window if they wanted to and that monster or not, any face looking through her curtains in the dark would be a scary face.

Catalina nodded and said that since the flat is on the fifth floor, she can see how anything at all looking through her window could be rather disconcerting and that she will make sure to always shut her curtains specially tight to keep out any and all mysterious faces.

She likes that Catalina never tries to use adult explanations to make her not be scared of things, she never tells her that she’s being wrong or silly, even when she knows it is, a bit.)

‘Will you miss me?’

(She wonders suddenly if Catalina will enjoy having the flat back to how it was, if it will make her miss not Cathy but her old life.)

But Catalina nods emphatically before the worry has really had a chance to take hold.

‘Of course, querida. But you shall have  _ such _ a wonderful time and tell me all about it tomorrow, yes?’

She nods.

‘And you’ll be able to give Anne her birthday present too.’

(She refused to make a card for Anne- although she normally would: card making still makes her feel a bit sick. But she’s proud of how fancy her writing inside the shop brought card looks- all in joined up writing and written with Catalina’s special expensive heavy fountain pen. And she’s proud of the wrapping paper- green with little red dinosaurs all over it- and of the green ribbon it’s tied up with (and of how she managed to curl the ends with scissors all by herself) and she’s most proud of the present itself.

It’s hard picking out presents for Anne, just because she gets new toys a LOT. 

(Kitty does too but she often doesn’t play with them because according to Kitty, Pink Kitty would be sad. For some reason, she prefers hunching up in the playhouse Jane made her out of a fridge box with Pink Kitty to riding in her tiny pink electric car. 

Neither Cathy nor Anne can understand this.)

Anne doesn’t have loyalties like that- she _ likes _ getting new things. 

Not just for her birthday or Christmas- last year, Anne got a big new dollhouse for no reason at all and it was the best surprise ever because it just turned up one day in the playroom without a word being said. 

It did spoil it just a  _ tiny _ bit that getting the dollhouse meant she didn’t get anything for her birthday a week later (because apparently only very greedy little girls would have expected  _ another _ present after getting the dolls house, according to Anne’s mum) but the dollhouse itself was still  _ excellent _ , with its lights that turned on and off and all the furniture that matched.

It does make it hard to choose presents for Anne though, because she has so much stuff.

Still. She’s very proud of this present.

They’re standing on the doorstep for all of this, and they haven’t knocked yet, so it’s a surprise when the door opens right up and Catalina gives a very little scream and puts her hand to her chest.

‘Catalina! And Cathy! How are you both?’

Jane is standing in front of them, smiling delightedly, and there’s a small pink Kitty-sized figure holding onto her hand. 

Cathy waves at her and Kitty hides her face in Jane’s skirt.

‘Anne will be so happy you’re here, Cathy! And-’ Jane lowers her voice slightly, turning to Catalina. ‘It’s so good to be able to say thank you again. For-….’

‘Oh it was nothing-’ Catalina waves her hand, and with it, waves away all the scariness from last week. ‘No trouble at all.’ She cranes her neck a little to look behind Jane. ‘Hello, Kitty.’

Kitty presses herself further into Jane, whimpering until Jane picks her up.

‘Can you hello nicely to Catalina, Kitty-Kat?’

It does not seem, from the lack of response, like she can.

‘She isn’t scary!’ Cathy adds earnestly. She’s trying to be helpful but both Jane and Catalina smile as if she’s said something funny, and then Jane’s smile fades.

‘Sorry, she’s just going through a-’

‘It’s completely fine-’ 

‘Strangers are just-’

‘Honestly, don’t worry-’

‘We’re working on it-’

While they’re talking, Kitty risks peeking out at them all- and then stares, transfixed.

After a moment, they all follow her gaze- to the necklace Catalina is wearing. It’s a little silver tiger on a chain- one of Cathy’s favourites and she can see immediately why Kitty is taken with it too.

‘Do you like it, Kitty?’

Kitty flinches back at Catalina talking to her directly- but then pauses before burying her face in Jane’s neck again, as if she’s weighed up her options and chosen to keep looking at this new and wonderful thing.

She nods solemnly, not taking her eyes off it.

‘Would you like to hold it?’

She nods again.

‘You don’t have to-’ Jane interrupts. ‘It’s kind of you to offer but please don’t feel like you have to- We can look with our eyes not our hands, sweetheart.’

‘Oh it’s alright, it wasn’t at all expensive.’ Catalina unclasps the necklace and takes it from around her neck. ‘And I’m sure Kitty will be very, very gentle.’ She pauses. ‘Won’t you?’

There’s a little pause- and Cathy wonders if Kitty has exhausted her communicative powers for the day, maybe she isn’t even going to nod anymore. 

Then- ‘Yes’ Kitty replies, in a very tiny voice. 

She looks up into Catalina’s face for the first time and, when Catalina nods a  _ Go Ahead _ nod, holds out a hand to gently stroke the tiny tigers little head.

‘Good girl.’ Catalina keeps hold of the chain, but holds it loosely so that Kitty can thoroughly investigate the silver charm with her own small fingers.

She turns it over and over, looks into the tiny face and mews experimentally and then gently strokes it with her forefinger like she’s petting a very tiny cat.

After a moment, she leans back and whispers something to Jane, who smiles and shakes her head.

‘I don’t know, darling. Why don’t you ask Catalina?’

Kitty’s voice is tinier than the tiger. ‘What’s it called?’

Catalina smiles at her. ‘She doesn’t have a name yet. I never thought to give her one.’

Cathy opens her mouth to correct her- it’s true Catalina never gave her tiger necklace a name herself but only because Cathy asked her the same question when she was around Kitty’s age.

She’s just about to tell Kitty that the tiger's name is Stripey, when Catalina gives her hand a quick, tiny squeeze, and she knows, just knows, somehow, without anyone saying anything, that she shouldn’t say a word.

‘What do you think would be a good name for her?’ 

Kitty hesitates for a moment, thinking hard. ‘Silver Kitty’ she says at last. Her voice is a tiny bit stronger.

Catalina nods decisively. ‘Then Silver Kitty she is.’

‘Give her back now, Kitty Kat’ Jane says, and Kitty reluctantly lets go.

‘What do we say to Catalina?’

‘Thank you.’

‘And thank you for the excellent name.’ Catalina says, scooping her hair out of the way to fasten the necklace back on.

Jane is smiling and blinking a bit too much. She sets Kitty back on her feet so that she can help Catalina fumble with the tiny clasp and Cathy catches her whisper.

_ ‘-first time she’s- ever since- thank you so much- _ ’

Catalina murmurs a quick  _ ‘You’re welcome’  _ back, and then raises her voice slightly and says they should probably let the girls get started with the sleepover and Jane says yes,  _ yes, she’s sorry to have held them up and would Catalina like to pop in for a cup of tea at her own house next door _ , and Catalina says  _ yes, that would be lovely _ -

-and then Anne is pulling open the door wearing a new tshirt made of very shiny green fabric that is almost like scales and Catalina is giving her a last kiss goodbye and Anne is grabbing Cathy’s hand and pulling her inside, to where there is already music playing and the tempting smell of birthday cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catalina got Kitty talking again!
> 
> And all it took was a necklace.
> 
> For those who are interested, which is probably no one, Kitty's cardboard playhouse is, in my mind, an exact replica of the playhouse I had at her age. It was made from an old fridge box, it was painted pink, with a grey roof and a tiny chinmey and a door which opened, and it had flowers painted around the door. Words cannot express how beautiful it was and I'm only sad I don't have any pictures of it.
> 
> The game Anna brings to P.E is a real german children's game, by the way- I googled it- and the digging-up-a-stone-with-twigs is something we often played when I was seven or eight. We were all convinced our school playground had an undiscovered fossil half unearthed in it.
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely feedback I'm getting for this story also- it makes my day. Thank you sillystarshine for your lovely reviews, they're such a treat to read, and thank you to my darling evenatango, who is entirely responsible for all that is to come next chapter.
> 
> Oh, and to be clear again: Cathy does not really hate Anna. And I certainly don't hate Anna. But this wouldn't be a realistic fic if i didn't include the absolute mindfuck that is best-friend-shippery between the ages of 5 and 11.
> 
> Hope everyone is coping ok during the current wildness- love to you all xx


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to @evenatango for coming up with all the good ideas for this fic!
> 
> As even, comments are so very appreciated everyone! Thank you so much for feedback so far!

Anne takes her into the playroom which is all decorated with balloons and streamers- it’s just them, because Anne’s dad is at work and Anne’s Mum is Busy and Mary has gone to her Group with baby Catherine. 

Group, according to Anne, is where you have to go if you have a baby so you can talk to other people who have had babies- or, in her case, if your big sister has had a baby and Jane isn’t there to look after you because she has to go to her job, which is sometimes stacking boxes on shelves in Sainsburys and sometimes listening to people shout because their parcel wasn’t delivered on time. 

(Jane does not like her job much.)

All the people at Group are young (like Mary) and they all look a bit tired (also like Mary), and their babies all look more or less like Baby Catherine too, except that Baby Catherine has nicer clothes and newer toys that make the other girls look at her and Mary out of the corners of their eyes in a not-very-nice way.

At Group- says Anne- sometimes you sit in a circle and take turns crying and other times, you sit in a circle and lie about whether or not your baby can sit up yet or not and how much sleep you’re getting, unless you’re Anne, which means sitting on the floor at the side and playing Candy Crush on Mary’s phone.

Anne says it’s all very boring but that Mary brought her a McFlurry on the way home the first time so it was mostly worth it. 

(The second time, Anne pointed out that Baby Catherine wasn’t really sitting up by herself ‘just that morning’. She didn’t get a McFlurry that time.)

It’s nice, not having to have Anne’s Mum and Dad there, because it means Cathy doesn’t have to talk to them about how school is going or worry about Manners or be scared she’s going to do something Wrong, like when she was invited for lunch and it had been a proper lunch at the table and Anne’s Dad kept looking at her while she was eating and shaking his head and Anne’s Mum kept twitching like there was a fly on her and she was a restless horse.

It had made her so nervous that she’d barely been able to taste her food because she couldn’t work out what she’d done wrong- her elbows definitely weren’t on the table and she couldn’t possibly be talking with her mouth full because she wasn’t saying anything because Anne’s Dad _likes to hear himself think_.

The whole thing was so tense that it was almost a relief when Anne’s Mum eventually turned to her, frowning like she had a headache.

‘We like to use our knife and fork _properly_ in this house, Cathy.’

She hadn’t understood what she meant until Anne nudged her and she realised that everyone else was holding their fork in their left rather than their right hands.

(She hadn’t known it was wrong until then.)

Her face had gone all hot and she’d quickly switched hands and done her best to eat the rest of her food like that, but eating with her left hand made her clumsy and when Anne’s Mum winced when she accidently spilled a forkful of couscous into her lap, she’d nearly cried.

She hadn’t been allowed to go over to play at Anne’s house for weeks after she’d told her Mum and Dad about it, so she’d stopped telling them anything much about Anne’s house at all.

(She wonders if she’ll need to be careful what she tells Catalina.)

Once they’re in the playroom, she drops her rucksack on the floor and thrusts her parcel into Anne’s hands.

‘Open it!’

‘What is it? No wait, I want to guess!’

‘You'll never guess!’ (She _knows_ Anne won’t be able to guess.)

‘Bet I will!’

Anne immediately starts shaking it, listening to see if it rattles and it makes Cathy very relieved that she and Catalina packed it all so carefully.

‘I picked all of it out myself, and I picked the wrapping paper and ribbon too- Catalina helped with some of it but it was my idea!’

Anne examines the outside, pokes the dinosaurs, giggling, and then strokes the green ribbon lovingly.

‘This is so cool- I’m going to save it and have Jane tie it onto my ponytail when she next does my hair...’ 

This is an excellent idea and Cathy is just wondering if Catalina could be persuaded to stop by the craft shop one more time so that she can see if they have any blue ribbon for her own ponytail- when Anne puts down the parcel unopened.

She feels a little sting- is Anne bored of it before she’s even seen what it is?

‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

‘When Anna’s here.’ Anne starts sorting through the pile on unwrapped presents in the corner, hunting for something.

‘Oh no, Anne, open it now-’

‘I will when Anna’s here, I _said!’_

_‘Please-’_

It’s the magic word but it isn’t always very magic and now is one of those times because Anne just shakes her head.

‘ _No,_ I want to wait for Anna!’ Anne picks up the parcel again and hugs stubbornly it to her chest. ‘And it’s _my_ birthday so I’m going to open it when I want and I want to wait.’

She can’t argue with that. The ‘It’s My Birthday’ rule is inviolable, she knows, which is annoying because she’d quite like to be able to argue.

She isn’t sure if she really _likes_ the idea of Anna seeing the present she got for Anne. 

It had seemed like _such a good_ idea when Catalina suggested it.

(She knows that telling Anne she came up with it was a _tiny_ untruth but Catalina had just laughed when she’d anxiously asked if Anne would mind it _not_ being her idea. 

‘It doesn’t really matter, mija. It’s an excellent present, no matter who came up with it.’

‘But-’

‘If it bothers you, you can tell her it was your idea if you like.’

Cathy eyed her suspiciously.

‘Will you really, _really_ not mind?’

Catalina kissed the top of her head.

‘I really, really won’t mind.’)

The shopping trip to find Anne a present had been long- they’d spent the whole morning looking through shop after shop until Cathy’s feet felt ready to fall off and she’d been sure she was going to drop to the floor in exhaustion.

Just as she was ready to despair, Catalina had said that they should take a break and led the way to a Starbucks, a welcome bit of quiet after the noise and bustle of town.

‘Let's try to plan a bit before we brave the masses again.’ Catalina stirred her hazelnut latte while Cathy worked on spooning every last bit of froth from the top of her hot chocolate. ‘What does Anne like?’

‘Lots of things. But she has it all already.’

Cathy knew she wasn’t being unhelpful but she didn’t feel like being helpful, she was too tired to be helpful.

‘She can’t have _everything_ , mija.’

‘Well, she _does_.’ She rolled the marshmallow around between her fingers, enjoying the sponginess, until Catalina raised an eyebrow and she reluctantly let it drop into her mug.

‘What sort of games do you play together? Maybe we could get her something to go with one of your games?’

Cathy had started to explain that they didn’t do expansion packs or accessory kits for the games she and Anne liked to play- and Catalina had just shrugged.

‘Why not?’

She hadn’t been able to answer.

The second part of the shopping trip was much more fun. 

They’d made a list on the back of a paper napkin of all the things that one should put in an accessory kit for Inca Princess Burial and then made a thorough search of all the little poky second hand shops to find just the right things.

The embalming sheets and the embalming lotion just came from Asda, which was boring, but the wax grape ‘offerings’ and the candles that worked with batteries and the bright silky Priestess robe came from little shops that smelt of dust and old books. 

The flowers came from the big stack of plastic flowers in the Poundshop- Catalina explained they’d last better than real flowers- and that night, she and Catalina had woven them into a beautiful big flower crown that was surely worthy of any princess, Inca or otherwise.

She’s sure Anne will love it but she isn’t sure she wants Anna to see it: what if Anna thinks it’s silly? 

After all, to explain it, they’ll have to explain Inca Princess Burial, and what if Anna thinks the whole game sounds babyish and stupid? 

She had hoped that Anne would be able to open her present, just the two of them (and that maybe they’d even have time for a quick game before Anna even arrived) but Anne isn’t budging and it IS her birthday, so she pushes the worry away as much as she can and lets Anne show her the birthday card that George sent.

When Anne pulls it out from its hiding place, she thinks it doesn’t exactly count as a birthday card because it’s _not_ a ‘birthday’ birthday card. 

It doesn’t say Happy Birthday anywhere on it, there isn’t a badge with Anne’s age on, there’s no glitter or really anything birthdayish about it at all.

Really, it’s only a card because it’s a postcard, with a picture that’s of some funny looking figures carved in stone wearing beads and headdresses and _not very much else at all_ and as funny as that is, it isn’t really a birthday sort of picture.

The card also wasn’t even sent to Anne, it was sent to her parents, so it’s not for Anne’s birthday really, it just happened to arrive on the right day.

Anne says she rescued it from the bin when her Mum wasn’t looking and that she’s not going to show this one to Jane to read to her- she’s going to read it herself because now she’s eight and that’s too old to be read to and besides, Jane leaves bits out, which is ok when it’s just changing the end of Kitty’s old copy of _Millions of Cats_ so that the cats in the story run away rather than eating each other, but most definitely not ok when it’s something important like a real postcard.

(Cathy wonders if Catalina knows that eight is too old to be read to. She hopes that they at least finish Little Women before her birthday.)

She doesn’t say any of this to Anne though.

She keeps the unbirthdayishness of the card to herself, and when Anne shows her the important bit- the bit at the bottom that’s written more clearly than the rest, the bit that says _‘Rock on, little sis. Peace and love from your big bro in London’_ \- she agrees with Anne that that bit at least was worth saving the card for.

They pass the card back and forth, trying to decipher the rest of George’s scrawly writing. 

Anne’s so far made out ‘Francis’- Jane calls him George’s _special friend_ and Anne’s Dad calls him ‘ _that one who got him into this bloody ridiculousness in the first place’-_ and Cathy has made out ‘understand’ and ‘busy’- when the doorbell rings, and they both jump up and run to let Anna in.

She can’t help but feel excited as she races Anne to the door because- although she still isn’t sure that she’s glad Anna was invited too, having her arrive also makes everything feel more _special_.

Now it feels like the birthday party part of things has actually begun and now rather than it just being her and Anne playing together like usual, it’s a _proper_ sleepover party.

Anna arrives with her present in one hand (a shiny red gift bag with little string handles) and her overnight bag (smart blue duffle bag) in the other. 

‘Happy birthday Anne!’

‘You came!’

Anna’s Mum gives her a kiss and tells Anne Happy Birthday in her funny accent and then she looks past Anne and Cathy like she’s expecting to see someone else.

‘Your mother, she is at home, yes?’

Anne nods.

‘She’s busy.’

‘Ah-’

Anna’s Mum hesitates. ‘I was hoping I might say hello to her-’

Anne looks uncertain. ‘I could- go and get her-’

Cathy wonders what’s going to happen- Anne’s Mum always gets cross when they interrupt her, even when it was because the man at the door needed her to sign something so that he could leave her parcel- and there are some rooms Anne isn’t even meant to knock on the door of and what if she’s in one of _those_ rooms…..?

But luckily Anna interrupts things.

‘Mutti, I’ll be _fine_!’ She huffs a bit as she says it, stretching out the last word into two syllables like it’s chewing gum. ‘Please! You don’t need to say hello!’

Anna’s Mum looks into the (empty) hall and then back at her daughter. 

‘Well…. Is she very busy? I suppose I wouldn’t like to disturb her….’

‘Yes! Yes!’ Anna looks ready to push her Mum out of the door. ‘She’s very, very, very busy! Busier than Vati!’

Anna’s Mum laughs. ‘Alright then, liebling. You have the new telephone number?’

‘Ja! Yes!’

‘Ok. Be a good girl. Do everything Anne’s Mutti tells you.’

She says the last bit a little uncertainly, like she is only now just wondering if Anne’s Mutti will be there to tell them anything at all- but at last she goes, and Anne tugs Anna into the house and towards the playroom.

Anna’s looking all around her as they go up to put her bag in Anne’s playroom and Cathy wonders why before she remembers that Anna hasn’t seen Anne’s house before so she isn’t used to how it has more rooms than most houses and how everything is extra shiney or extra fragile or both.

As they walk up the stairs, Anna asks Anne where her Mutti is, and if she’s really at home, and Anne looks like she’s surprised Anna is asking.

‘She’s here. Somewhere around.’

‘Don’t you _know_?’

‘She’s busy’ Anne shrugs. ‘It’s better if she is, it means she won’t make us be quiet or do a jigsaw-’

(Cathy has experienced Anne’s Mums jigsaws before. It’s always the same one, with a stupid picture of a rabbit and a kitten in a basket, and she makes them do it whenever they’re being too loud or playing something she doesn’t like. She always says it was her favourite as a little girl and it makes Cathy wonder just how boring Little-Girls-Anne’s-Mum was.)

Anna just blinks back, all confused by the absence of parental figures and Cathy thinks that she’ll get used to it soon enough.

In the playroom, Anne wants first of all to show them her best present.

It’s a bit awkward when she pulls them out from the pile of gifts at first because they just look like a pair of trainers.

Anne says that Jane found them in the British Heart Foundation shop, and Cathy thinks she’d be able to tell even if Anne hadn’t said anything because the green suede is a bit worn-shiney, and even though they’ve obviously been cleaned up and scrubbed to look new, the insides are still a long way for the snowy-white of proper new shoes.

The glittery rainbow laces threaded through them are new (paid for by Jane but picked out by Kitty as her contribution to Anne’s present) and they’re even quite pretty, but still, it’s not a very exciting gift.

Cathy thinks it’s a shame that a boring pair of shoes is Anne’s best present, and she’s very glad that she got her something more fun to make up for it.

She’s just trying to think up all the nice things that Catalina would know to say about Anne’s birthday present shoes so that she won’t feel sad about them when Anne sighs like she and Anna are missing something obvious, then turns them over and shows them both the little wheels in the soles and suddenly they go from being just boring old trainers to being very exciting and cool, especially when they take turns trying them on and gliding across the playroom floor.

They’re even better than roller skates Cathy thinks- because really you can only wear roller skates to the park or in the street, unfortunately. 

(She knows this because Catalina has made her feelings about wearing roller skates inside the flat very clear and plain, even though she didn’t break a single thing when she tried out her skates in the hall. When she pointed this out, Catalina just shook her head firmly and said she had no interest in tempting fate, whatever that means, and from now on, skates are only to be worn outside. It’s a very boring rule.)

Anne’s wheelie shoes though look just like normal shoes which means she could wear them _anywhere_ and the possibilities makes her breathless.

Anna says that if they were in Germany, Anne could wear them to school because they don’t have to wear uniforms- and Cathy barely even has time to be annoyed at Anna for bringing up Germany yet _again_ because the idea of Anne wearing the shoes to school on a mufti day is _brilliant_.

Anne agrees and then they all try to remember if they have a mufti day coming up or not.

Annoyingly, they don’t (at least, none of their parents have done the sigh-groan- _that- school-always-asking-for-money_ moan that accompanies most mufti days), so they make a Plan that on Monday, they’ll all suggest to their teacher that perhaps it would be nice to raise money for the poor sick children or the poor sick puppies or the poor sick old people or the poor sick hedgehogs or the poor sick something else.

The sneaky part is that they’ll all make sure to make it look as if it’s something they’ve only just thought of themselves, and surely their teacher will be so surprised that all the children are wanting to raise money at the same time that she’ll say yes to a mufti day at once.

(It is an _excellent_ Plan.)

They glide around on the shoes until they’re dizzy (and a little bit bruised from attempts at rolling on just one foot) and then Anna asks Anne what her parents got her.

Cathy is excited to hear what it is, because Anne’s presents from her parents are usually very exciting….but when Anne shows it to them, it’s just a doll.

Not that there’s anything wrong with dolls _per se_. 

Actually, Cathy thinks that Anne’s doll is rather nice- it looks like the sort of doll from a story about a little Victorian girl, the sort of doll that’s almost too pretty to touch.

It has long, perfect curls of blonde hair and tiny leather shoes with little pearl buttons and cream stockings and a cream silk dress and a cloak trimmed with real white fur.

It’s beautiful, _beautiful_ , and she opens her mouth to ask Anne if she can hold her...but before she’s even asked, she changes her mind.

The doll is far too pretty to be held after all, and she’d hate to mess her up somehow, especially seeing as it’s Anne’s birthday present.

Anna is a bit braver, but even she holds the doll awkwardly when Anne hads her over, as if she’s scared of dropping her, the way Anne looked when she was allowed to hold Baby Catherine once, and soon she hands it back to Anne, who lies it down very carefully indeed.

‘She’s- pretty…..’

‘Yeah.’ Anne sounds distinctly unenthusiastic. 

‘She looks really expensive.’

‘Yeah.’ Anne sounds even more disconsolate. ‘Mummy keeps on telling her that she was and she says I have to be really careful with her because she can break _very_ easily.’

They all eye the doll, as if she might crack under their very gaze but she stays reassuringly whole, for the moment anyway.

‘She says I’ll be in big trouble if I break her so I have to be really really careful because she’s fragile.’

‘Can you play with her?’ Anna asks and Anne shrugs. ‘Mummy says yes and that Daddy will be really sad if I don’t because he picked her out but I don’t know how I can. She’s too…..fancy.’ 

Anna and Cathy and Anne devote the next few minutes to trying to think of a way for Anne to play with her present but it’s difficult: normal games for dolls like Victorian Orphanage won’t work, and games like Witches definitely won’t work. 

Her clothes won’t come off, even her hair can’t be brushed because of her ringlets, and her dress is so clean and pristine that it’s obvious immediately that it will show up every speck of dust or dirt.

She is, overall, quite a disappointment of a doll, and it makes Cathy glad that her own dolls are reassuringly sturdy and well up to being dropped, thrown and smeared with pretend red-smartie blood, as the game might require.

It’s all very tricky…..and eventually Anne says they can think about it later and that she wants to open Cathy’s present.

She does….and there’s a silence as Anne picks out and unshells the little individually wrapped parcels.

Anne looks at them.

Anna looks at them.

Cathy looks at her knees.

She thinks about the lotion, the robe, the candles in their box- and about how, helping Catalina wrap them in tissue paper last night, they looked _beautiful_ \- but now, lying on the carpet, they look….just normal. 

Even a bit tatty- suddenly she can see the loose threads from the cut up sheet, she can see where the robe has gone bobbly from being washed.

She wants to sweep the things up and hide them back in the box before Anne or Anna can laugh at them (she wonders if she should pretend that it was a mistake, to say that of course these aren’t Anne’s REAL presents) but she can’t. She can’t move or say anything or do anything other than sit there and burn with embarrassment and wish with all her might that she’d just got the colourful felt pens Catalina had suggested in the first shop.

Tentatively, Anne leans over to examine the bottle of lotion. She holds it close to her eyes and brightens.

‘It’s glittery!’

Cathy nods (it’s what finally convinced her to get the lotion to be embalming oils rather than the multi-pack of lip balms that actually HAD balm in the title).

‘It….it smells of strawberries too….’

Her voice trails off- she can’t say anything else without crying but Anne doesn’t notice, she’s trying to sound out the words on the label Catalina carefully hand lettered and stuck to the bottle the night before.

‘Em- ball- Em- Balling… Lotion-’ Suddenly her face clears of confusion and she beams. 

‘Cathy! It’s embalming lotion!’

She looks so happy and excited that Cathy can only nod.

‘And-’ Anne sifts through the box with new interest. ‘Bandages- and candles! And-’

She picks up the wax grapes.

‘Offerings!’ They say together, and now she knows it’s alright, Anne _does_ like it, and everything is ok and she hasn’t ruined the sleepover- and she’s so relieved she’s almost forgotten Anna is there too until Anna asks what offerings are.

Anne rolls her eyes like it’s a silly question- which is really a bit unfair because they didn’t know what offerings were until they learnt about the Inca Princesses last year and maybe Anna hasn’t had anyone to tell her yet. 

‘They’re what you bury with the princess so she doesn’t curse you!’

‘Princess?’ Anna looks confused and Cathy can tell she’s thinking of other princesses, of Rapunzel and Cinderella and Belle with their big dresses and pink-lipped smiles, who couldn’t rain down a curse if their life depended on it.

‘Not those princesses!’ She explains. ‘Inca princesses- from-’ She tries to say it properly, since it’s easy to twist her tongue over the word. ‘The Incan Empire.’

Anna still looks a bit confused so she and Anne do their best to explain about offerings and sacrifices and people living hundreds of years ago in a place called Peru.

‘Oh!’ Anna looks like she understands and Cathy sort of hopes it will stop there but then- ‘So how do you play Inca Princess?’

She sounds like she actually wants to know so Cathy lets Anne explain.

‘-and then she gets embalmed and entombed and then you make offerings to her to appease her angry spirit…..it was Cathy’s idea!’ Anne finishes and she wonders if Anne is saying that so that Anna will only judge her for playing baby games and not Anne- but instead Anna looks at her with a smile that is definitely not a smirk and her eyes open wide.

‘Cathy! That sounds like a _fantastich_ game!’ 

It feels funny to have Anna looking at her like she’s so clever- funny but also nice but also a bit embarrassing too. 

‘Anne came up with the idea of removing her brain through her nose like the Egyptians’ is all she can say, and Anne sends her a grateful look when Anna gasps like that’s the best thing she’s ever heard of.

‘Do you think it would work with three people?’

Anne shakes her head. ‘We tried to make Kitty play with us and she ruined it-’

‘She wasn’t any good-’

(It had been a real disappointment, Cathy thinks, because Kitty is usually quite willing to take whatever part of the game they need her for, as long as Pink Kitty is allowed to accompany her. 

She has been a Dead Body in Business Woman Detective, and a Vampire Bat in Vampire Barbie- a black cocktail napkin had served well as Pink Kitty’s wings, but when they tried making Kitty help entomb Anne, she just wailed that she didn’t want Anne to be buried like a dead person, and when they tried to show her that entombing really didn’t hurt at all, she cried until Jane heard and came to investigate.

The game ended with the un-entombed Inca Princess sniffling in Jane’s lap and being soothed with an illicit Jammy Dodger, while the tragically biscuitless Inca Priestesses were told quite firmly to be more gentle in the future and to find something else to play, which was not a satisfactory end to the game at all.)

‘Oh.’ Anna droops and then Cathy realises what she meant.

She opens her mouth, just as Anne is already speculating that while the game didn’t work with three people when the third person was Kitty, maybe it would just fine if the third person was someone else….

It turns out not only does Anna NOT think that Inca Princess Burial is babyish at all, it’s a game she really wants to try for herself and they’re well into setting up the burial ground, having settled the argument over who should wear the robe first (Anne because it’s her birthday, Cathy because she brought it all or Anna because this is her first time ever even getting to play) when Anne’s Mum pokes her head into the playroom to check on them.

‘Alright in here, girls?’

‘Yes thank you Mummy.’

‘Yes thank you Mrs Bullen-’

‘It’s Boleyn now, Cathy dear!’ Anne’s Mum reminds her with a tight smile, and Cathy wishes she could explain that it’s actually really very tricky to learn a whole new name for someone when they’ve been Anne Bullen since Reception and that no matter how many angry letters Anne’s Mum sends to the school about teachers getting it wrong, it’s hard to make her mouth say Boleyn when her mind says Bullen.

(It's worse for Anne though. Cathy only has to learn to SAY Boleyn but Anne has to learn to SPELL it and whoever heard of having an E and a Y together?)

Instead, she settles for a meek ‘Sorry, Mrs Boleyn’ and is rewarded with a little nod of forgiveness.

‘Are you having a nice time?’

‘Yes thank you Mummy.’

Anne smiles beatifically from beneath her flower crown but Anne’s Mum frowns.

‘What on earth are you all up to?’

‘Just...playing. Aren’t we?’

Cathy and Anna nod and try to look well behaved.

‘What’s all this rubbish everywhere?’

Cathy wonders what she means- and then Anne’s Mum picks up the _offerings_ with a dainty thumb and forefinger and then she realises and it feels _horrible._

Anne’s Mum thinks her present is _rubbish._

Anne fidgets a bit. ‘Just part of the game, Mummy. We’ll clear it up before we go to bed, won’t we?’

Cathy and Anna nod again and Anne’s Mum purses her lips. 

‘Alright. Although I don’t see why you’re not playing with your birthday present…. Your father worked very hard to be able to afford it, you know, and he’d be _very_ sad if he heard you weren’t grateful…’

Anne’s looking so sad and uncomfortable that Cathy can hardly bear it- she knows that in Anne’s house, the crime of _being ungrateful_ sometimes leads to lots of unpleasant things like early bedtime and no dessert and how can you go to bed early and have no dessert at a birthday sleepover?

She isn’t sure whether to stay quiet or to speak up and say she’s sorry for getting Anne a present that’s gotten her into trouble- but before she can even decide one way or the other, Anna interrupts with a big beaming smile, like everything is fine and nothing is wrong at all and no one is nearly crying.

‘Oh we were playing with her, Mrs Boleyn! She is such a lovely doll, Anne is so lucky- we just put her down to keep her safe for this bit of the game. So she wouldn’t get broken or hurt.’

Anna is looking like one of the choir children at Catalina’s church, all sweet and good and perfect, and miraculously, Anne’s Mum actually smiles back.

‘She is lovely- and I suppose it’s sensible to put her to the side if you’re playing something more boisterous…. Just make sure you’re careful!’

‘Oh we will be!’

‘Good good…..’

Anne’s Mum waves a hand at them and goes back out and it’s as if the whole room lets out a breath.

Cathy wonders how Anna knew to do quick thinking like that, how she knew what to say- even Anne doesn’t know how to say the right thing to make her Mum smile like that at her….but Anna doesn’t seem like she was having to make an effort, like knowing the right thing to say to make things better comes to her naturally, like how reading is easy for Cathy and French is easy for Anne.

And things are better- sort of. 

Anne doesn;t seem to be in trouble any more at least, which is good.

Still, there’s a moment after the door closes when everything feels a bit flat- like the game is a balloon and the word ‘rubbish’ is a pin and now all the fun and special feeling is leaking away…. 

But then Anna mutters darkly that the Inca Princess will surely rise up to rain curses upon any silly person who dares to insult her offerings, and they have such fun coming up with curses and acting them out that they forget all about everything that isn’t toads raining from the sky and food that turns mouldy before you can take even one bite.

Then Anna wonders if maybe the Inca Princess would be angry enough that she might even rise up from the grave to wreck revenge and it’s such a good idea that Cathy doesn’t have time to even think about whether or not her present was a good idea because she’s too busy trying to help Anna subdue the wrathful Inca princess.

(She can’t help but think the game really is better with three.)


	12. Chapter 12

There’s pizza and birthday cake for supper when they’re called downstairs, flushed and ruffled from much entombing and raining down of curses. 

(They even managed to include Anne’s birthday present: the doll became the  _ sacrifice _ , like in the story of Abraham and Isaac that they learned in R.E, except that no one replaces the doll with a sheep at the last minute.

It’s ok. The doll doesn’t seem to mind being a sacrifice. It doesn’t mess up her dress or her ringlets anyway.)

At home and at Catalina’s house at her old house, it’s tea but at Anne’s house, it’s supper. She knows not to call it tea because Anne’s Mum and Dad like to pretend that they don’t understand when people call it tea.

(Once, Anne says, Jane asked what time she should bring Anne and Kitty home for tea and Anne’s Mum made a big show of looking confused and told Jane that  _ Of course they didn’t let the children drink TEA, Jane, oh goodness no…. Oh I’m so sorry, do you mean supper?  _ and Jane had just sighed really big _.) _

Cathy wonders if she or Anne should have warned Anna about the tea/supper thing in case she gets it wrong and has to listen to Anne’s Mum doing her  _ I’m Very Confused _ face...but it turns out to be ok because Anna calls it  _ abendessen _ , and Anne’s Mum gets a funny look on her face, like she isn’t sure whether or not to correct her, and ends up not saying anything at all.

The pizza is delicious- real, _ proper _ pizza ordered from a pizza delivery place- not the frozen pizza that Catalina buys or the homemade pizza that they have as a treat sometimes, when she gets to help knead the dough herself and choose her own toppings. 

(She always makes her pizza into a face- with olives for eyes and a red pepper smiley mouth and pepperoni cheeks and a button mushroom nose, even though she doesn’t like peppers very much and she doesn’t like olives  _ at all.  _

She picks those parts off before she eats it. 

The very first time, she’d wondered for a moment in Catalina would be cross at the waste but when she’d asked to check, Catalina had just laughed and said that they could probably  _ just about  _ afford it and that if Cathy valued  _ The Aesthetic _ that much, who was she to stand in the way of art? 

Which turned out to be a fancy way of saying that she didn’t mind.)

The birthday cake is even more exciting than the pizza: it has two tiers like a wedding cake, except it’s pink rather than white and there are little pink and white roses on the top rather than a bride and groom and  _ Happy Birthday Ann  _ written around the side.

Mary laughs and asks Anne’s Dad if he noticed that they missed off an E and Anne’s Dad tells her not to look at him,  _ he didn’t order the bloody thing _ and Anne’s Mum goes pink and quickly says that it must have been a typo and then snaps at them both that it doesn’t matter, isn’t it still a beautiful cake?

(Anne whispers to Cathy that it doesn’t seem fair that grown ups can make all the spelling mistakes they want: why doesn’t it matter that the cake maker spelt her name wrong when she gets told off if she forgets about the secret E in  _ Boleyn _ ?

But she only says it quietly, so no one thinks she’s being  _ Ungrateful _ .)

She and Anna and Anne’s Mum (who is holding her magazine open with her finger so she doesn’t lose her place) and Anne’s Dad (who is still wearing his suit and is drinking something dark brown from a fancy glass) and Mary (who is home from Group) and Baby Catherine (who is enthusiastically gumming a rusk) sing Happy Birthday to Anne while she blows out her candles and cuts the cake to make a wish.

(She doesn’t get to do more than the first cut though because Anne’s Mum is fussed about mess.)

Cathy makes sure to hold her cake fork in her left rather than her right hand when she’s eating her slice of birthday cake (she’s getting quite good at it now) and feels pleased with herself when she doesn’t drop even a single crumb. 

Anne is….less careful, but it’s her birthday, so her Mum only frowns at her a little bit and her Dad doesn’t notice at all because he’s looking at his phone.

Baby Catherine is a  _ lot _ less careful and drops bits of rusk and crumbs of cake all over the carpet and Anne’s Mum sighs and frowns and then scolds Mary for letting  _ the baby  _ have  _ CAKE and what were you thinking _ ?

Mary tells her it was only a tiny taste and to lay off her, it’s HER daughter, and Anne’s Mum snaps back that if it’s her daughter, maybe Mary should pay for her clothes and toys and nappies and food from her own pocket  _ and how would she like that? _ and they snap back and forth until Mary crossly whisks Baby Catherine away to clean her up.

Then Anne’s Dad says he needs to make a phone call and Anne’s Mum turns to them and asks if they wouldn’t like to go back upstairs to play now so that the grownups can have some peace and quiet even though they haven’t been downstairs all that long, and that’s it, the cake bit of the party is clearly over.

Anna looks a tiny bit surprised, and Anne looks a tiny bit disappointed (Cathy just feels relieved) …….but it’s alright really.

The pillow fort isn’t going to build itself, after all.

*

Making the fort is fun.

Climbing into the fort and playing that they’re Arctic Explorers in a blizzard is even more fun (especially when Anna’s Captain Oates decides he wants to come back into the tent after he’s left and she and Anne have to fight really hard to keep him outside in the snow)......and then Anne says they should do scary ghost stories.

Because it’s her sleepover and her birthday and everyone in sleepovers on tv tells ghost stories and so they should too.

This is….sort of a good idea.

It’s a good idea because it’s  _ true _ that a proper sleepover needs ghost stories- they all agree on that.

It’s less of a good idea because… well, at first she thinks it’s a less-good idea because she doesn’t really know any proper ghost stories.

(Both her parents and Catalina have been very clear in letting her know that Ghosts- and monsters-under-the-bed and Vampires and Witches are all Just In Stories…..but they haven’t supplied her many of the stories themselves. Not ones that are scary enough to make them worthy of a sleepover anyway.)

Not only does she not know any real scary stories though, neither does Anne (as far as she knows) and so it’ll be just  _ boring _ .

However it soon turns out- once the lights are turned off and they’re sitting in the pillow fort with their torches under their chins to make their faces all spooky- that actually Anne DOES know quite a few ghost stories.

At least, they’re not exactly ghost stories, more plots-of-horror-films-that-Mary-watches-and-Anne-Isn’t-Supposed-To-See….. but they work perfectly well even if they ARE more about zombies and men with chainsaws and big sharks than ghosts (and even though Anne has to make some of it up because she- unluckily for her- never gets to see more than a minute or two before Mary tells her to  _ go and play _ .)

Anna knows stories too- stories that are old, stories that her Omi learnt from her Omi when she was a little, little girl. 

There’s the story of the maid who tricks a princess into being a goose girl and who gets rolled around the city in a spiked barrel as her punishment and now haunts the town every night- which makes them all wince- and the story of the peddler who is given a gun with seven bullets in by a man in a cloak who turns out to be the devil and who ends up shooting his wife by mistake and now haunts the forest- which makes them all sad.

And then Anne says it’s time for Cathy to tell a ghost story and she wonders what she could  _ possibly _ say.

She has no idea how she’ll be able to match Anna’s devil-with-a-gun story, and certain she won’t be able to top Anne’s man-who-cuts-off-peoples-skin-and-wears-it anecdote.

She hasn’t seen  _ any _ scary films herself at all- not even a bit of one because Catalina doesn’t watch those sorts of films, just old, old films that are all black and white, or serious grown up films where people do lots of looking out of rainy windows while sad music plays in the background.

Once or twice, out of curiosity, she’s tried picking something that looks scary and grown up from the dvd section of the library to see if she’ll be allowed it but Catalina just makes her put it back and choose something else.

(‘You wouldn’t like it, querida.’

Catalina has barely even  _ looked  _ at the dvd case and it makes her cross. 

‘I might. You don’t  _ know  _ I won’t like it.’

Catalina raises her eyebrows. ‘I can make a pretty good guess. Remember the detective program that you didn’t like because of the scary music? Well this would be even scarier than that. It would give you nightmares for sure.’

‘Maybe I LIKE having nightmares.’

‘Maybe you do but I  _ don’t _ . Just choose something else please.’

‘Well I ONLY want this one.’ It’s a challenge but Catalina looks unimpressed.

‘Well I am more than ok with you getting nothing at all mija if that’s what you’d like.’ Catalina nonchalantly examines the case with a picture of a tiger in a sailboat on the front and puts it back. 

Annoyingly, Cathy knows she means it. ‘Now shall I pick out another dvd for myself or would you like to choose a different one?’

‘......A different one.’

‘Ah, I thought so.’

Grudgingly, she lets Catalina put the dvd case back on the shelf but it’s still frustrating.

It’s too hard to explain that what really made her hide her eyes and cover her ears from the detective program wasn’t really the scariness but how normal it was. 

Scary films, she thinks, should be Scary. And she doesn’t think she’d mind Scary Scary.

What she doesn’t like are normal things that turn scary and remind you of all the bad things that could happen to you at any time at all.

But explaining that is too hard so she doesn’t even try.)

She wonders if Catalina would have changed her mind about the dvd if she knew she was leaving Cathy in such a position as she is now, the only person at the sleepover without a scary story to tell. 

(Maybe she’ll tell her tomorrow. She hopes Catalina feels bad about it when she tells her.)

Anna and Anne are starting to look a bit impatient now so she decides she’s just going to have to make something up.

She takes a deep breath.

‘Once upon a time-’

Anne giggles a bit- maybe because she’s using the fairy story beginning, maybe because she’s making her voice all spooky and different, maybe just from sheer nerves, but Cathy can’t tell which so she throws a stray cushion at Anne to make her be quiet and listen properly.

‘Once upon a time….there was a little girl. She lived with her Godmother in a big, big house. It had hundreds of rooms and ten floors and a big big garden….’

‘Was there a swimming pool?’

She wants to be annoyed at Anne for interrupting but she supposes it’s only fair considering that she interrupted Anne’s story about The Scary Murder Hotel to say that it was really the ladies fault she got stabbed in the shower and why didn’t she lock the door like a normal person?

‘No- Yes.’ She changes her mind. ‘She DID have a pool, and she could do the backstroke and dive and hold her breath underwater-’

Anne scowls (it’s still a point of contention between them that Cathy learned how to do the backstroke in swimming lessons  _ first  _ even though Anne has a nicer swimming costume.)

‘Bet she couldn’t  _ really. _ Bet the dive was only  _ once  _ and she couldn’t do it again.’

Cathy is on the verge of asking Anne just whose story it is (and possibly adding that maybe the little girl could only manage to dive once but at least  _ she _ didn’t cry when she  got pushed fell off the floaty raft even though all that happened was getting a little bit of water up her nose  _ like some people she could name _ …) but then Anna interrupts because she wants to hear what happens next.

‘Go on Cathy!’

‘Well, she lived in a big big house, anyway. She was allowed to play in every room except the attic. Every day she asked her Godmother if she could go into the attic and every day, her Godmother would say,  _ maybe when you’re a bit older _ . 

And she would come up with reasons about why the little girl couldn’t go up there, like one day she’d say that the roof was leaking or that there were some presents she wasn’t allowed to see or that it was too cold. 

But the little girl didn’t really think that was really why. And every night when she was in bed, she could hear noises coming from the attic. And if she ever asked about it, her Godmother would say that it was the wind. 

But it didn’t sound like the wind. It sounded like-’ Cathy drums with the heel of her hand on the carpeted floor a few times and then makes her fingers all witchy and scratches them along the side of the fort.

‘One night, she decided that she couldn’t wait any longer to find out so she got out of bed really quietly and snuck up the stairs to the attic. On the first step, she heard a little voice in her head telling her to go back but she ignored it. When she was half way up, she heard a little voice telling her to go back to bed RIGHT NOW...but she ignored it. And when she got to the top step, she opened the door really slowly….’

Cathy pauses dramatically- she’s not really been paying attention to the other two while she’s been talking but they’re both staring at her, eyes wide. Anna is holding a pillow to her chest and Anne is biting the nail of her littlest finger.

_ I did that,  _ she thinks.  _ My story did that…. _

It feels exciting. It feels powerful.

‘She opened the door and saw...nothing.’ She lets her voice drop back to normal and Anna and Anna both relax. ‘It was just an ordinary boring attic….and she thought maybe her Godmother had been telling the truth the whole time, and she was just turning around to go back to bed when she felt….a hand….close around…..her wrist…’

She lets her words fall slowly until she gets to the last part, and then she grabs Anne’s bare wrist as she says it. 

Anne gasps and pushes her away and takes back her arm like she’s afraid of what Cathy might do to it; Anna puts the pillow over her face so only her eyes are peeking out.

‘The hand was all cold and thin….and the little girl was too scared to turn around. She heard a voice- just a little girl's voice- in her ear, and it said…’ 

She makes her voice all scratchy. ‘ _ It’s my turn now. You’ve lived downstairs for all these years and your Godmother promised that one day, we were going to get to swap places and now you’re here so we will _ . 

The little girl tried to run but before she could, the other little girl had pulled off her dressing gown and put it on over her own raggedy dress, and she pushed the little girl down and she took a big needle and she sewed up the little girls mouth so she couldn’t even scream-’

Anne presses her lips together tightly.

‘The little girl lay there with her mouth all sewn up, and she watched as the attic girl escaped out of the door and shut it hard…. 

And then the little girl heard her go downstairs. And she tried and tried to open the door but she couldn’t, no matter how hard because it was locked up tight.

And after a while, she heard her Godmother coming into the hall and so she banged as hard as she could on the door, hoping she would hear her and come and rescue her and let her out…’

‘And then?’ Anna’s voice is nearly a whisper.

‘And then…’ Cathy took a deep breath. ‘Then she heard the other little attic girl saying  _ What’s that funny noise? Can I go up to the attic today? _

And she heard her Godmother say T _ hat’s just the wind, come and have breakfast. Maybe you can go to the attic when you’re a little bit older. _

And it made her wonder if she’d be able to escape when the attic girl came up to see her….

But then she heard the little girl reply  _ That’s ok. I don’t really want to go up there. I don’t ever want to go up there, not ever! _

__ And the attic girl and her Godmother walked away, and the little girl was left all alone. Forever. The end.’

There’s a long quiet after she finishes and she wonders if maybe she was wrong, if Anne and Anna don’t like her story after all….but then Anna lets out a shaky breath.

‘Wow Cathy, you’re really good at scary stories!’

‘Thank you.’

‘Did Catalina tell you that one?’ Anne asks and Cathy shakes her head. ‘No. I just….made it up.’

‘How? How? Teach me!’ 

‘I don’t know how-’

‘Please Cathy!’ Anne grips her arm like she wants to shake the stories out of Cathy for herself and Cathy pushes her off, giggling.

‘I don’t know how to!’

Anne subsides reluctantly. ‘It was SO scary! What happened to the little girl?’

‘Yes!’ Anna joins in. ‘What happened to her?’

They’re looking at her expectantly- it’s so strange to think that now, this little girl exists not just in her head but in Anna and Anne’s heads too, she exists now when five minutes ago she was just nothing at all.

She’s made something out of nothing- and although she’s written stories before, in school and just for fun, this feels different. This feels  _ real _ .

It occurs to her that she could say anything-  _ anything _ \- and that would be The End….so she has to think for a minute before she asks (and this is quite clever she thinks really) if they want a Scary Ending or a Happy Ending.

(It’s like when Catalina asks if she wants truth or lies when she asks what Catalina did at work that day, and sometimes she says lies and sometimes she says truth.

When she says she wants lies, Catalina will tell her about the tiger that got in through the office window and how everybody but her ran away and how she had to fight it off with just the contents of her handbag until it fled, never to be seen again. 

Or she’ll talk about how she got lost on the way to work and as she walked and walked, the buildings around her got bigger and bigger and it was only when she came across a dandelion the size of an umbrella that she decided she should maybe turn back….

When she says she wants truth, Catalina will tell her about the new person who made a mistake and tried to blame it on her, and the annoying woman who talks about being on a diet and then goes and takes the last biscuit anyway, and the annoying man who listens to what she says and then repeats it and pretends it’s his idea and how much she’d like to throw something at him  _ but of course I wouldn’t really querida because that would be very bad _ .

Whether she chooses truth or lies, it’s usually a good story anyway.)

Anne says Happy Ending just as Anna says Scary Ending, which is no help at all.

‘Tell us both!’

‘Yes, tell us both!’

She gives in, and tells them all about how the little girls Godmother noticed that the attic girl wasn’t wearing the same pajamas as her real daughter and went up and rescued her and unstitched her mouth and made the little attic girl say sorry and go and live with her neighbour who was going to have a baby the normal way but then decided that babies were too much trouble but that she’d still quite like a daughter anyway.

‘-and they all lived happily ever after.’

‘Was the little attic girl her sister?’ asks Anna and Cathy shakes her head.

‘She came with the house.’

‘Ohhhh.’ Anna nods understandingly. ‘Yes. The new house has some furniture Mutti didn’t like because it was ugly and Vati said that it came with the house and that we had to put up with it.’ She pauses. ‘I’m glad we didn’t get a creepy little girl too.’

‘You MIGHT have done!’ Anne bursts out. ‘Maybe you did and she’s in the attic and she’s waiting for you to go up-’

Anna shakes her head. ‘We don’t have an attic.’

‘Maybe she’s in the cellar!’

‘We don’t have a cellar either. Vati said houses with cellars and attics were too much trouble and if Mutti wanted either, she could be in charge of sorting them out when something went wrong and Mutti said there was no way she was doing that, so we just got a normal house.’

‘Oh.’ Anne looks stumped. ‘That’s a shame. Nowhere for the little attic girl to live just because your Daddy didn’t want a cellar.’

Anna says if Anne is so sorry for the little attic girl, maybe she can come and live in Anne’s attic instead and Anne squeals and says she better not even try, it’s not  _ her  _ fault Anna doesn’t have an attic.

‘Can we have the scary ending now Cathy?’ Anna asks (possibly to distract Anne from further scrutiny of her father’s potential disregard for the welfare for little attic girls) and Cathy nods.

‘The scary ending…..is that the little girl stayed up in the attic forever. She got hungrier and hungrier but she couldn’t eat anything because her mouth was all sewn up and no one was bringing her food anyway. So she died. All by herself and she never saw her Godmother again and no one noticed or was sad about it because they didn’t know.’

It’s not a very long ending but it’s the saddest, scariest ending Cathy can think of, and the others must agree because they just nod, like it makes sense that of course you can’t eat with a mouth all sewn up.

They’re thinking about it so hard that when there’s knock on the door, they all jump and Anne gives a little scream and Cathy grabs tight onto her hand….but it’s only Mary, telling them that Anne’s Mum says it’s time they went to bed.

Coming out of the pillow fort feels funny after all the stories- especially as the big light is still off and they have to shine their torches so Anne can find the switch by the door.

(She makes it across the room ok, no scary hands reach out to grab her or anything.)

(Not that they can see, anyway.)

At least things feel a bit more normal when the light is on- and finding pajamas and toothbrushes is at least a reassuringly prosaic distraction.

It also helps that she’s excited to show off the new pajamas Catalina brought her as a special treat- her old ones were just pink and purple plaid but her new ones are very cool and blue and have little otters and ‘Otterly Exhausted’ on them.

(Catalina says that’s a  _ pun _ , which means getting words wrong on purpose to be funny. Cathy decides she likes puns but from the way Catalina rolls her eyes when she’s explaining it, she thinks Catalina might not feel the same way.)

(But it’s ok because Anne says that Jane likes puns a LOT.)

Anne’s pajamas are just plain green (although they’re made of special silky stuff) but Anna has pajamas patterned with little skulls and crossbones like a pirate.

(Anna says they’re from the boys section because why should boys get the cool pajamas and Cathy and Anne agree that’s a very good point.)

The fort gets a bit demolished when they’re getting into bed to sleep because they need the pillows and blankets back, and Anna goes back to her bag for a minute and fishes out a slightly worn grey and white toy fluffy thing.

She tells them her Vati brought one for her and one for her sister when their old dog, Albrecht got put to sleep, even though Amelia was too little at the time to know what Put To Sleep meant. So her dog is Albrecht The Second.

Albrecht The Second barks and lollops around the remains of the fort until Anne’s stuffed dragon blows a plume of smoke and fire and scares him away… and then Anne turns to Cathy and says they need Tarka (who is important enough to have a whole book written about him) to throw water on the fire…

It makes her wish very much that she hadn’t left Tarka under her pillow at home for fear of looking like a baby. When Anne asks why she didn’t bring him, she just shrugs.

‘I forgot.’

‘Oh.’ Anne loses interest and makes Rothko dragon burrow under the duvet.

(Rothko dragon got his name from the big red painting on Anne’s living room wall because Anne’s Mum and Dad were having a fight about it the same day that Anne was trying to think of a name for him: Anne’s Dad kept shouting that it was  _ a completely ridiculous waste of money _ and Anne’s Mum kept shouting back that it was  _ an original Rothko Thomas, an original Rothko!  _ Anne doesn’t care much about the Rothko painting- she says it’s looks like something someone even younger than Kitty could paint- but she does like Rothko dragon very, very much.)

Cathy tries to remind herself that not bringing Tarkar means she’s obviously very grown up and that’s a  _ good _ thing….but it’s quite hard to do.

Anne says that one of them can have Kitty’s bed and one of them can have the camp bed and one of them can have Anne’s bed and that her Mum said it was up to them to decide, so she thinks they should draw straws for it like in  _ Oliver Twist. _

(This is, Cathy thinks, more that Anne likes the idea of drawing straws than really caring where anyone sleeps.)

In the end, Cathy ends up on the fold up bed, Anne has her own bed and Anna has Kitty’s. 

Anna asks, while they’re waiting for their turns in the bathroom, whether Cathy really minds being on the camp bed and does she want to swap and Cathy says it’s ok.

She feels a bit bad when Anna smiles at her like she’s being nice.

She isn’t sure if she should tell her that the real reason she doesn’t mind having the fold-up is because she knows from Anne that Kitty has started wetting her bed again after her visit to Edmund.

(Jane says that it’s _nothing_ to worry about, it’s _easily_ fixed, and it doesn’t matter in the _slightest_ _so_ _please don’t cry Kitty-Kat,_ which is pretty much the opposite of what Anne’s Mum has to say on the subject. But then again, she and Jane often say opposite things and Anne and Kitty are mostly used to it by now.)

She decides not to tell Anna because Anna seems happy to have the proper bed anyway, but she also feels a tiny bit guilty that Anna thinks she’s being more nice than she is, so she lets Anna clean her teeth next.

Which sort of makes it fair.

They get into bed and turn off all the lights, apart from Anne’s lava lamp and their torches. It’s sort of exciting- to be somewhere new, for the real sleepover part to begin….but it’s also, for some reason, suddenly really quite easy to imagine little attic girls and scary hands grabbing at their wrists and people wearing skin and what it must feel like to be rolled around in a spiky barrel…..

When there’s another knock on the door, it makes them all jump….but it’s only Anne’s Mum, checking that they’re really in bed and reminding them to not touch the  _ special soap  _ in the bathroom.

There’s a little uncomfortable silence after she goes: Cathy can still feel her heart beating a bit faster under her pyjama top and she can tell that Anne and Anna are feeling the same way (although they at least have a dragon and a dog for protection while Cathy has nothing at all.)

After a bit, Anna says that attic girls probably can’t knock on doors to make it less scary- and they all feel better for a moment.

Then Anne says that little attic girls probably don’t knock because they can  _ just come straight in whenever they want to _ …...

And they go right back to being scared again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely feedback! I do hope this chapter was ok! I know they've been a bit dull for far bc I really enjoy slice-of-life stuff but it will get more angsty soon, I promise!
> 
> For anyone confused by the weird games Cathy and co are playing- Captain Oates was part of an arctic expedition with Captain Scott and others. The expedition failed and the men all died: Captain Oates became especially famous because during the last days of the expedition, aware he was slowing the others down due to his severe frostbite, Captain Oates walked out of the tent during a blizzard with the words 'I'm going outside and I may be some time', sacrificing himself to give the others a chance at surviving. I thought it'd be funny for the girls to use this in a game and sort of maybe miss the point of it a bit....
> 
> Also for anyone who might be interested (because yes, i DO have to research all these things because I am an utter child) here we have:  
> Cathy's otter Tarkar HERE> (https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/611AHaApz8L._AC_SX425_.jpg)  
> Anne's dragon Rothko HERE> (https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/8-gAAOSwv9peQlwI/s-l640.jpg)  
> Anna's dog Albrect The Second HERE> (https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn%3AANd9GcSbSynJmX2cl04V5oXi_PODKB_KMGS4bsaaANJoTxUYnLVaGM5i&usqp=CAU)
> 
> (And for the record, we sell Anne's Rothko dragon at my work and I can confirm that they are excellent.)
> 
> Also:  
> Cathy's otter pyjamas > https://cdn.lazyone.com/products/QWS370-MS1.png (Coincidentally with a model who looks a lot like i imagine older Cathy will look in the fic!)  
> Anna's pirate pyjamas> https://i.etsystatic.com/16109531/d/il/970507/2214405631/il_340x270.2214405631_7rlr.jpg?version=0  
> Anne's green pyjamas> https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/61fWHFXuISL._AC_UY606_.jpg


	13. Chapter 13

The first night in Catalina’s flat, she hadn’t been able to sleep at all because of how very different from home it was. 

(And because of the ragged hole in her heart that ached and ached and  _ ached _ .)

The second night in Catalina’s flat she’d fallen straight to sleep because she was so tired, even though she’d woken up every couple of hours- she’d checked the time on her old Winnie The Pooh alarm clock- and every time wondered for a moment why she wasn’t in her own bed…. and then every time remembered, and had to bury her head in the pillow to keep from crying.

(From crying or screaming, she hadn’t been quite sure which.)

This is like the first night.

It’s funny how when they were all awake and playing she hadn’t noticed that Anne’s house is really  _ warm.  _ Not hot exactly, but the bedroom feels stuffy and after a while, her pajamas start to feel a bit sticky on her bare skin. The duvet is too thick too- much too puffy, and it smells wrong. Not bad, it’s nothing she’d object to normally, only a soapy washing powder smell- but wrong all the same.

(Her duvet at home doesn’t smell of anything and she wonders if Anne minds having to smell detergent all the time.)

The fat pillows- that made such excellent fort walls- also turn out to be less good to lie on than they are to build with. Even with just one pillow, her neck feels all cricked but trying to lie without a pillow feels  _ wrong _ too _ ,  _ and no matter which way she lies, she can’t get comfy.

Lying awake in the dark doesn’t really feel very nice, now that Anna and Anne aren’t awake with her to whisper to and giggle with, and she knows it’s very, very late.

The house has gone quiet.

There’s not even the familiar hum of traffic that she’s gotten used to falling asleep to because Anne’s house has a big front drive and an even bigger garden at the back and it feels as if the whole world is asleep apart from her.

Sleeping is difficult though because although it’s very quiet, it’s also not entirely silent either. 

There are still odd little taps and thumps, that she knows are far too little to be Anne’s Mum or Dad or Mary. They couldn’t be Baby Catherine- because she’s tucked away in her nursery at the other end of the house and anyway, she wouldn’t be able to get out of her crib.

They could  _ maybe _ be Kitty because she knows Kitty is very, very good at creeping around so as not to make much noise...but Kitty’s sleeping at Jane’s house tonight, and even if she wasn’t, she knows that Kitty’s much too afraid of the dark to get up and walk around the house at night.

Cathy’s not afraid of the dark  _ exactly _ . She sleeps with the light off at home every night without being scared one bit (and only  _ sometimes _ with the hall light on).

And it’s not even like Anne’s bedroom is properly dark because Anne’s lava lamp is still on, green globs of oil drifting lazily up and down….but it’s not really proper light either.

It’s the sort of light that makes everything into shadows, the sort of light that makes you realise just how many hiding places there would be for anybody- perhaps even a little attic girl- to hide in if they chose to. 

There’s also light from the window too- because it turns out Anne isn’t at all scared of faces looking in at her. Instead she likes to sleep with her curtains wide open- she says it’s because sometimes the people in the house behind have firework parties and if her curtains are open she can watch them from her bed. She says that Kitty likes to be able to see the sky from her bed so she can say goodnight to the moon, like in the picture book Jane brought her when she took them to the car boot sale.

(They’re not meant to tell Anne’s Mum that Jane takes them there because Anne’s Mum thinks car boot sales are Dirty and Common. 

Anne doesn’t think they’re dirty and common though- and she much prefers them to normal shopping, not just because everything is all piled up in interesting heaps that you get to dig through to hunt for treasures, and not just because everything is so cheap cheap that you can always find something even if you did happen to spend most of your pocket money on an ice lolly from the van with the lopsided Goofy painted on the side. 

She prefers them most of all because they’re outside where there’s lots of space- and so if you get a bit tired of looking around, you can go off and sit down on the grass or have a little run around or try out your new toys, and if Kitty gets a bit scared of all the people, Anne can just take her a bit further away and make her a daisy chain to distract her. 

It’s nothing at all like dragging round all the proper shops, where the music is so loud it almost deafens you and the perfume sample ladies spray things right in your face and make you sneeze and Anne’s Mum has a fit if she or Kitty touch anything.

Even Kitty- who hates hates hates shops- quite likes the car boot sales because there are always lots and lots and lots of cuddly toys for Pink Kitty to make friends with.

Anne’s Mum says that second hand things are for poor people.

Jane says what Anne’s Mum doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

This is a philosophy Anne has embraced most enthusiastically.)

Anne likes car boot sales but she does also say she wishes Jane could have brought Kitty a picture book about a little rabbit that says one goodnight to everything and then goes straight to sleep, rather than one about a little rabbit that insists on saying goodnight to every single thing separately, even stupid things like gloves and balloons and hairbrushes.

Jane won’t even tell Kitty to stop because she thinks it’s  _ sweet. _

(There are lots of things Kitty does that grown ups think are sweet. Anne usually does not agree with the grown ups.)

Between Anne’s fireworks and Kitty’s incessant need to say goodnight to every single thing that has ever existed, Anne’s bedroom curtains never ever get shut, so when Cathy looks at the window in Anne’s bedroom, instead of just nice safe curtain material, there are big empty patches of dark glass. 

_ (Lots  _ of space for faces.)

She tries closing her eyes against the scary shadows, but it’s hard to keep your eyes closed when you’re so very, very wide awake. 

It’s not even like she’s at home and can turn on her lamp to read a few pages of one of her books to help her fall back to sleep.

Anne had been surprised when she found out that Cathy was allowed to do this, and Cathy explained about how Catalina had found out that she wasn’t sleeping well and said that there was nothing more miserable than lying awake and that sometimes a few pages of a book makes all the difference and that she’d rather Cathy got Some Sleep than No Sleep At All.

Anne asked what was stopping her from getting out all of her toys and playing a proper game and she’d explained that playing in the middle of the night somehow isn’t really as much fun as playing in the day.

(And even though she’d been playing  _ quiet as a mouse _ , Catalina had somehow still managed to hear her and had not been very pleased at being woken up because she had a Big Meeting the next morning and she’d taken Cathy’s reading light away for the rest of the night  _ and _ the next night too  _ and _ made her go to bed a whole hour early. So she isn’t going to try that again in a hurry. Going to bed at 8 is far too humiliating when you’re in the Juniors.)

Reading though, Catalina says, unlike playing, has a soporific effect, which means it makes you sleepy.

(Soporific is a very good word, although not everyone thinks so. When she’d tried explaining her teacher that she’d stopped doing her sums to play noughts and crosses with Anne because maths had a soporific effect on her, she’d lost her playtime and the game had ended up scrunched up in the bin. Which was especially unfair because she was nearly winning.)

The soporific effect of books is why she’s allowed to read a few pages if she can’t sleep at home (and it’s also why Cathy isn’t allowed to keep new books in her room at night anymore. Catalina says it not that she doesn’t trust her, just that she feels the temptation would be  _ overpowering.  _ Which is another good word.)

She wonders if she could try reading a few pages of one of Anne’s story books with her torch (because probably no one would wake up if she did it very carefully and quietly under the covers and she’s gotten very good at doing that from when she used to live at home back at home with Mum and Dad).

But then she remembers that Anne had been very surprised about the rule because she and Kitty get into trouble for being awake when they’re meant to be asleep (and even Jane doesn't like them turning on the light unless they need something)....and she doesn’t want to risk getting into trouble if anyone wakes up and catches her.

So she just lies there.

Her bed feels very empty without Tarkar- even though he usually swims off under the duvet to nibble gently at her toes and catch pretend fish in the dark, it’s nice knowing he’s there.

Now her bed just feels lonely.

She wonders if she’ll stay awake all night. It’s something she and Anne have wanted to do for  _ ever  _ but it somehow doesn’t feel very exciting now, lying all by herself in the dark in Anne’s shadowy bedroom, with the little attic girl scratching above them and Anne’s Mum just down the hall to come in and tell her off if she turns the light on.

It feels more like being trapped- like when they’re playing Inca Princess Burial and she lies still as still under the layers of sheets in the stuffy dark just to see what being buried is like (and sometimes lies still extra long, just so that Anne will bend over her to check she’s still alright and she can jump up at Anne suddenly and make her squeal). 

Except it also isn’t like Inca Princess Burial at all because she can’t just sit up and be out in the air and light and move around again: she just has to lie there and listen to the clock tick in the hall.

She starts to think that she would really quite like to go home.

It’s a strange thought, because she’s been looking forward to the sleepover for so long….but now she’s actually having the sleeping part of the sleepover, she’s finding herself wishing that Anne had just chosen to have a normal birthday party like everyone else so that she could be back at home by now, tucked up in her own bed with her normal duvet and Tarkar turning somersaults in the crook of her knees and catching bad dreams in his little furry paws.

Catalina would be there too, to shut her curtains tight and tuck the covers around her so nothing under the bed could grab her feet and to scare away any little attic girls that might be lurking and- if the little attic girls got particularly persistent- cuddle her and murmur sleepily to her in Spanish until she felt safe enough to fall back to sleep. 

She tries to pretend to herself that she’s really back in her own bedroom, that Catalina is just down the hall and everything is fine and as it should be- but thinking about Catalina turns out to be a mistake because rather than making her feel better, a wave of homesickness washes over her and she has to fight really hard against the bit of her that wants to jump out of bed and run all the way home to where it’s safe and familiar.

She knows this feeling.

It’s one she had a lot in the early horrible days right after Mum and Dad died, except perhaps it’s maybe not quite as bad now because then she knew that she couldn’t run home no matter how much she wanted to, because home wasn’t home anymore, whereas now she knows she technically could. 

It still feels horrible though.

She wonders if it’s bad that she feels like this now for something that’s nowhere near the same as Mum and Dad dying.

She’d thought at the time that she’d never felt that bad before, that it must be a pain that only came with something as awful and terrible as Mum and Dad being there one minute and not there the next. 

She’d assumed she’d feel that way forever, even though everyone kept on telling her she wouldn’t- she’d thought they were being stupid because how could she possibly feel better from Mum and Dad being dead, except from them being made alive again? 

Except...now she realises that somehow, the feeling had snuck away from her bit by bit and rather than feeling terribly bad every second, she’d somehow started to just feel very very sad. And then very sad, but in a different way, a way that left room for other feelings too. 

Every so often, the feeling would rear its ugly head again, like being knocked over by a surprise wave at the seaside….but the moments got less and now she realises that she mostly feels ok now, all the time.

It’s like the time she sprained her wrist. First, it was all she could think about- when it was hurting so badly there was no room in her head for anything else at all. 

Then, even after it got bandaged up and the pain got a bit better, she still kept thinking about it- about how it was hard to eat and brush her teeth and get dressed with only one hand, how it was hard to get comfy in bed. But then it just became normal, and when people would see her for the first time since the accident and do their Oh-my-goodness-someone’s-been-in-the-wars routine, she’d be confused for a moment before she remembered she was hurt.

It’s like that now- it’s not so much that she’s forgotten that Mum and Dad are Gone, more that she has forgotten to  _ remember _ .

  
  


Except now the bad feeling is back and it’s not even for something really bad, she knows that really, because it’s not like Catalina is dead, she’s just not  _ here _ and does that mean she wasn’t sad enough about her parents or that she’s too sad about being away from home or something else entirely?

She isn’t sure, but she does know that it can’t possibly be right for her to be this upset over something so silly, considering she’ll be home in the morning and she’ll see Catalina then-

Then the edge of a thought begins to tickle around the edge of her consciousness.

It’s a scary, scary thought, and she tries to bat it away and to think about something else, like spelling homework and what they’ll have for breakfast, but it catches her anyway, and digs deep into her brain like a sting.

She starts to wonder if perhaps, maybe, just maybe, something will happen to Catalina while she’s gone.

Maybe before morning- or maybe it’s already happened. 

Maybe it’s happening right now- and she wouldn't know a thing about it, because the first thing she knew about Mum and Dad was in the morning but she heard later that it had happened while she was fast asleep.

Or maybe it will be in the morning- as Catalina is coming to pick her up perhaps, or maybe just before she gets to the door…

She thinks of all the time that there is between now and the morning when Catalina comes to pick her up- all the hours and minutes and seconds- and how even after that, something bad could _ still _ happen to her, how there’s nothing, nothing  _ at all _ to guarantee that Catalina will always be ok-

The thought is so suffocatingly scary that she has to squeeze her lips together tight to keep a wail from bursting out of her. Her eyes feel hot and wet.

Then, quite by chance, as she’s still struggling to keep herself from crying out loud, she happens to look across the room- and sees that there are shiney dark eyes looking at her from the bed by the door.

She’s half way through sucking in a big gulp of air to scream when her mind catches up and she realises that it’s just Anna, awake and watching her.

Her first thought is relief that it isn’t a scary eyes-open monster (or possibly a scary eyes-open little attic girl). Her second thought is to hope that Anna hasn’t noticed that she’s crying or even that she’s awake at all.

She hopes that Anna will just roll over and fall back asleep, and she keeps as still as she can, waiting for her to do just that- but then Anna climbs out from under the covers and crawls over the remains of the pillow fort until she’s right next to her.

‘Cathy?’

She doesn’t say anything, trying to keep her breathing as steady and sleep-like as possible, although it’s difficult and even she knows she's not doing a very good job.

‘Are you ok?’ Anna’s voice is very quiet so as not to wake up Anne who is, mercifully, still asleep.

She realises it’s no good, that she’ll have to answer.

‘Yes.’ Her voice is a tiny bit shaky but maybe Anna won’t notice in the dark.

‘Did you have a bad dream?’

‘No.’ It’s not a lie.

‘Are you crying?’

‘No-’ It would be more convincing if her voice didn’t break, but she can’t help it.

Anna’s going to think she’s a crybaby and she’ll tell Anne and Anne will agree because even Kitty can sleep away from home without being pathetic and Kitty’s only  _ four _ , nearly half her age, and everyone will be cross because she’s ruining Anne’s birthday and it’s not something she wishes often but she wishes now that Catalina could be one of the grown ups who just says no to fun things for no reason at all, because if she was, she wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place and so really, it’s all Catalina’s fault because who asked her to be the sort of godmother who just  _ agrees _ to things all the time?

(Then she thinks about how Catalina could be dead right this second and how she shouldn't have bad thoughts about her because what if she  _ is _ -)

Anna looks like she doesn’t really believe her but she doesn’t argue. ‘Shall I wake up Anne?’

She shakes her head hard.

‘So what’s the matter?’

‘Nothing.’

Anna rolls her eyes. ‘But you ARE crying.’

‘I’m  _ not _ , I told you-’

‘Then-’

‘I just want to go  _ home-’  _

It bursts out of her without her really meaning it to, and she wishes she could have kept pretending because maybe Anna would have believed her if she’d just kept it up a bit longer.

(She does want to be at home though. She wants her own bed and her own room and Catalina down the hall and her curtains shut tight.)

Before she can even beg Anna not to tell Anne (because what if Anne thinks she’s being nasty about her birthday? What if Anne’s Mum hears them and thinks she’s being Ungrateful for the sleepover?), Anna nods like it makes sense.

‘I want to go home too sometimes. Lots of times.’

She’s a bit surprised for a moment- because Anna doesn’t look at all how she feels (like she’s very small and alone, like everything is  _ wrong) _ , she looks as normal as you can when you’re having a conversation in whispers in the middle of the night- but Anna keeps looking at her steadily, like she should understand what she means, and then she gets it.

Anna doesn’t mean home, she means  _ home.  _

To her real home. To her  _ German _ home.

It makes her feel guilty that she’s making such a fuss when she’ll be able to go home in the morning and Anna won’t.

(She also- for the very first time- wonders if there’s maybe another reason Anna keeps talking about old home and her old school and her old friends. Not because she wants to remind everyone that they’re cooler than anything London has to offer but because she  _ misses _ them.)

‘I’m sorry.’ She isn’t really sure what else to say but it’s the sort of thing she thinks Catalina would say.

‘It’s ok. Just, I know what it’s like.’

She sniffs and wipes her nose on her sleeve because she doesn’t have any tissues, even though it makes Catalina-in-her-head wince.

‘Do you miss them a lot?’

She’s confused for a second and then she realises exactly what Anna means, what Anna has assumed- and she feels a thousand times worse. 

Because even Anna knows she shouldn’t be wasting tears over wanting to be home with Catalina when she doesn’t have parents any more.

Anna looks worried when she starts to cry again- it’s embarrassing but she also can’t stop because she feels so guilty, but she can’t explain that to Anna, not in whispers anyway, so instead what comes out is a choked ‘I miss Catalina-’ before she’s sobbing again.

Anna doesn’t look as shocked as she was afraid she would- or if she does, it’s only for a moment. 

(She’s probably thinking inside about what a horrible person Cathy is. She wonders if Anna will even want to be her friend any more now, and she realises with a little flare of panic, that although she’s been annoyed at Anna trying to act as if she’s Cathy’s friend too when she isn’t, she also really, really doesn’t want Anna to suddenly decide she’s not worth it.)

When Anna stands up, she thinks for a second that she’s just going back to bed, but then when Cathy doesn’t get up too, she grabs her hand and tugs and she either has to stand up and follow after Anna or make a big noise and wake everybody up- so she follows her, wondering where Anna could possibly be taking her.

Is she going to wake up Anne’s mum and ask that she be evicted from the sleepover?

(She isn’t sure what’s scarier: the trouble they’d get into for disturbing Anne’s Mum or the thought of being sent home in disgrace. Would Anne’s Mum call Catalina to come get her, or would she just send her out into the dark scary street to make her own way home? She knows it’s unlikely but then again….)

But they don’t go left outside Anne’s door- they go right, and down the stairs and then they’re in the hall and Anna stops.

When Cathy doesn’t move, she looks at her like she’s being an idiot and points at the telephone.

‘Call her.’

‘What?’

‘If you miss her, you should call her.’

‘Why?’

Anna shrugs. ‘It might make you feel better. Mutti lets me call Oma and Opa when I miss them a lot. Vati says we’re keeping BT in business.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I don’t know.’ She waits. ‘Do you not know the number?’

Her tone makes Cathy ruffle up. ‘I do, I’ve known it since-’

She pauses. It’s really ever since she got sick in Reception and school couldn’t get through to either her Mum or Dad...but it’s also quite an embarrassing memory she’d rather not share. 

(Anne still thinks it’s funny that she threw up in the Dressing Up box. They were even playing Doctors at the time.) 

She settles for ‘Since- since forever!’ and Anna looks a little impatient.

‘So then you can call her, can’t you?’

Cathy bites her lip. She isn’t sure- is she allowed to use the phone? 

No one has said she  _ can’t _ but she knows from Anne how her parents feel about anyone playing with the telephone, and would this count as playing or not? 

It;s tricky though, because now Anna’s said it, she really does want to call, just so she can know for sure that nothing bad has happened to Catalina in her absence.

Anna pokes her arm.

‘Go on. No one will know. I won’t tell.’

She still isn’t sure. Anna pokes her again.

‘Go  _ on.  _ If you get in trouble- I’ll say it was me.’

She isn’t sure how that will help if they catch her actually doing it: they’ll be able to SEE it’s Cathy on the phone and not Anna and then what?

‘I’ll tell them that it was my idea. I’ll say you didn’t want to and I made you do it.’

Anna looks like she means it and it’s funny: she wants to ask why, why would Anna offer to get into trouble for her, why does she care whether she calls Catalina or not?

_Because_ _she’s kind_. 

The thought comes to her so quickly and unexpectedly it’s like it’s someone else saying it (someone who maybe sounds just a tiny bit like the Catalina-in-her-head) and it makes her hesitate.

After a minute, Anna’s face softens a bit.

‘Do you...not know how to make a call Cathy? It’s really easy, I can show you-’

She knows Anna means it nicely but the idea of being thought too stupid to know how to make a phone call when she’s nearly eight cuts right through the swirly sad-scary-worried feeling inside and before she knows it, she’s grabbed the phone out of the cradle and is dialling, even though really she’s actually  _ never _ made a proper phone call by herself before, not without Mum or Dad or Catalina hovering right next to her.

  
She’s dialling in the number so slowly and carefully (because she’d hate to accidentally call someone else and disturb them so late) that the determination to show Anna she isn’t a baby wears away a bit, and she’s  _ just _ starting to wonder if maybe it’s a bad idea after all and maybe she  _ will  _ get into trouble no matter what Anna says and maybe Catalina will be cross to be woken up or perhaps won’t even answer because the something bad has come to get her….when the phone is picked up and a very sleepy, very familiar voice says ‘Hello? Yes?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carboot sales were one of the highs of my childhood and so I've decided they're a thing Jane likes too.  
> Props to anyone who got the John Finnemore ref also ;)  
> The house being too hot/duvet being too puffy is entirely me being salty about my friends overheated homes (we had an unheated flat so everything felt hot in comparison) and the being awake at the sleepover was me entirely.  
> Not so much the crying and calling home but more because we didn't have a phone until I was ten and because in the 90s, it wasn't The Thing to call home at sleepovers, you just suffered quietly.  
> Next chapter- Cathy gets to talk to Catalina!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really interested to hear what people think about how Catalina handles this/if you think it sounds believable or whatever. Working on this fic is like partly out of just enjoying fun writing but also a little bit of grief projection- it's a bit mixed up haha Anyway, i hope you all enjoy and thank you thank you thank you for all your lovely comments!

The relief of hearing Catalina- very obviously alive and well and not at all dead- is so much that upon hearing it, she bursts into tears and can’t do anything more than sob into the phone. 

She can hear Catalina saying ‘Hello? Hello?’ in a voice that is sounding more and more worried and it makes her feel guilty, but she’s also crying too hard to speak properly.

‘Hello? Cathy? Mija, is that you?’

‘Ye-es-’ 

Her voice comes out all wobbly.

‘What’s the matter, querida? Are you alright? Are you hurt?’ Catalina is sounding seriously panicked now but she can’t answer, not yet.

‘Are you on your own? Is there someone with you?’

She nods and then realises that of course Catalina can’t hear her.

‘Ye-es-’

‘Can you let me talk to them for a minute, mija? I’ll be very very quick, alright?’

She doesn’t really want to give Anna the phone at all- Catalina is  _ her _ godmother, not Anna’s, and she doesn’t feel like sharing- but she isn’t sure what else to do so she pushes the receiver at Anna who looks a bit confused but takes it anyway.

‘Hello?’

There’s buzzing on the other end of the phone but she can’t hear anything.

‘I’m Anna. I’m Cathy’s friend. Are you Catalina?’

There’s a pause.

‘I think she’s ok.’

Anna turns to her. ‘You’re not sick or hurt, are you Cathy?’

She shakes her head. She really wants Anna to give her the phone back.

‘She isn’t. She said she wants to come home…….No, everyone else is asleep.’

There’s another pause. Anna says ‘yes’ a couple more times and ‘thank you’ and then ‘yes’ again.

Cathy’s still juddering with sobs and she’s shivering a bit in the drafty hall and she’s regretting letting Anna talk her into this because she isn’t feeling any better at all AND now she’s cold on top of everything...but then Anna passes the phone back to her and sits down cross legged on the carpet.

‘She asked if I would stay with you if I’m not too tired, or wake up Anne’s Mum if I am’ She says, to Cathy’s confused look, and then shrugs. ‘I’m not too tired so I’ll stay.’

Cathy is very, very glad Anna hasn’t opted to wake Anne’s Mum, but there isn’t time to say anything because Catalina’s voice is in her ear again and now she doesn’t sound worried or panicky at all.

‘Hello again mija.’

It’s the voice that wakes her from nightmares. The tight bands around her chest start to loosen the tiniest bit.

‘Hello-’

Her own voice is very small and teary.

‘What’s the matter, querida? Anna said you were feeling a little bit homesick?’

Homesick is a small, silly insubstantial word for the crushing despair that’s settled heavily upon her, and it doesn’t even  _ touch _ the anguish of wondering whether or not Catalina is alright, nor the terrible guilt over her parents….but she half nods into the phone anyway.

‘I want to be at home. I want to be at home  _ now _ .’

She sounds like a baby but she can’t help it. She doesn’t even really care that Anna is listening.

‘Oh querida’ Catalina’s voice is velvety soft and very, very gentle. ‘It’s hard being away from home sometimes, isn’t it?’

‘ _ Yes _ , it’s  _ horrible. _ ’ She’s quite relieved Catalina isn’t telling her not to be so silly or asking how she can be homesick when she hasn’t even been gone a full day yet. ‘Everything feels  _ wrong _ .’

‘I know. It’s awful when it all hits at once.’

She sounds like she really does know, which is a bit of a surprise.

‘I used to get it very, very badly.’

‘When?’

‘I think the worst was when I first came to England.’ Cathy knows about that- about how Catalina came to England when she was very young to get married but how the man she was meant to marry died before it could happen. ‘But when I went to university- that was all a very hard time, at first.’

‘But that was when you were grown up.’

‘You can get homesick at any age, mija.’

She isn’t sure if she likes the idea that she might feel like this again- but she does like the way that Catalina sounds so matter of fact about everything, like she isn’t making a silly fuss over nothing.

‘Did you cry?’

‘Sometimes.’

She contemplates this unexpected revelation. ‘I want to come home,’ she says, and just saying it makes her throat all tight and her voice wobbly again because she does want to go home, she wants to be at home  _ so very much _ -

Catalina sighs.

‘I can come and get you querida-’

‘Yes please-’

‘But that means I’ll have to hang up the phone to drive, so how about-’ There’s a rustling as if Catalina is moving around ‘How about we talk for a while, just until you’re a little bit calmer, alright mija? And then I’ll come?’

She opens her mouth to say no, that she needs Catalina to come  _ now _ \- but she also doesn't want to hang up the phone, and perhaps Catalina can read her mind.

‘I’d rather not hang up until I’m sure you’re alright mija, I would feel very uncomfortable about leaving you alone in such a state. Is that alright with you?’

She doesn't really want Catalina to go so she gulps out a  _ yes _ .

‘Then that’s what we’ll do. Now…. What’s got you feeling homesick mija? Did something happen?’

‘Not really…’ She isn’t sure, so she settles for ‘Anne doesn’t shut her curtains.’

Catalian clicks her tongue. ‘Ah! Yes, I should have thought of that- I could have mentioned it to Anne’s Mum. Sorry mija.’

Cathy wonders what good that would have done, since Anne’s Mum didn’t even come into the room when she said goodnight, just pushed the door open a bit and called to them from the hall….but she doesn't say that.

‘Could you close them yourself perhaps, if Anne is already asleep? No one would mind.’

She fidgets a bit, she isn't sure she  _ wants _ Anne to know about her window thing and Catalina must hear her hesitation so she adds ‘Or perhaps you could try and face away from the window? Maybe put Tarkar on your pillow so if you turn over, you’ll just be looking at him instead?’

She usually  _ hates _ it when grownups talk about her toys as if they’re real- she knows they’re not and it makes her feel like she’s Kitty’s age- but she can’t even focus on that now, because it just reminds her that she doesn’t even have Tarkar with her and that makes her feel even worse.

‘Cathy? Mija?’

‘But he’s at home-’ she whimpers, and she’s a bit surprised Catalina has forgotten considering the long debate they had over it, Catalina saying it wouldn’t hurt to just put Tarkar in the very bottom of her rucksack in case she changed her mind about not needing him in the night, and Cathy arguing that she wasn’t a baby and that nobody ever takes otters to sleepovers anyway and that Catalina could watch the Lizzie Maquire sleepover episode for herself if she didn't believe her.

(Catalina had shuddered quite hard at the suggestion and said  _ I’ll take your word for it mija _ quite firmly. Cathy isn't sure why.)

‘Didn’t you find him?’ Catalina sounds genuinely surprised. ‘I put him just at the bottom of your bag, under your towel.’

It’s a big surprise, although she had been wondering why Catalina had packed a towel for her considering she was only going for the night and had already had a shower that morning because she didn’t like the idea of using Anne’s big power shower with the hundred and one knobs and dials and buttons.

‘I’m sorry querida, I know how firm you were about not wanting to take him but I just couldn’t help myself. I hope you’re not too cross with me.’

It’s so odd to hear that because it’s normally the other way around, with Cathy hoping she isn’t the one in trouble- although she has to admit, Catalina hardly ever gets cross, even when she probably could.

‘No. I’m not too cross.’

‘Well, I’m glad. Do you know, when I went to university, when I was much much older than you-’ Catalina’s slips into her storytelling voice. ‘I was 18 and I spent so long packing and choosing what I would bring! Dios mio, I drove my poor mother quite demented- changing my mind and packing and repacking, tearing my room to pieces. I just wanted to seem grown up so very badly-’

It’s funny to hear Catalina talk about wanting to look grown up at university because surely by the time you’re at university, you already are a grown up, a proper one?

‘I decided only to take things that a grown up would take, so I chose all the longest books I had with the most impressive titles- some I’d never even opened….I decided to take only clothes that would be smart for lectures….or that I could wear for a night out. Nothing old! Nothing sloppy! My goodness, how I regretted it!’

‘What happened?’

Her voice is still a bit wavery but it’s a lot more like her normal voice than before and she finds that she is actually a bit interested to hear the story.

It’s so funny to think of Catalina being young and scared and making silly mistakes- because even she knows that it makes no sense to take books you don't actually like away with you and she’s not even eight yet, whereas Catalina was more than  _ ten years older _ .

‘Oh querida, it was horrible! I caught a cold on my first night out with my new friends and I had such a terrible hangover-’

‘Whats a hangover?’

‘It means….well, sometimes when you’re young and having fun….that is, in moderation, sometimes things are ok but when you have too much…’ Catalina trails off then picks up the story again hurriedly. ‘Do you know what mija, I’ll explain to you tomorrow ok?’ 

Cathy wonders what could possibly be too complicated that Catalina can't just explain it now and makes a mental note to remember to ask about hangovers the next morning because surely Anne won’t know what they are either and maybe this is something that they  _ should _ know, like multiplication and suffixes. 

‘Anyway, I felt so ill and I had nothing I wanted to wear, nothing comfortable. And nothing interesting to read while I was stuck in bed either!’

Cathy gives a little gasp of sympathy. How horrible!

She almost wishes she could go back in time, to bring poor University Catalina the big warm snuggly cardigan that she likes to wear after work and on weekends and one of the glossy magazines she likes so much (and hides under the sofa cushions when people come to visit) so that she can be happy rather than sad and uncomfortable and hungover (whatever that means).

‘And worst of all mija, I’d left Benito behind-’

‘Who was Benito?’

‘Benito was my monkey- not a real one sadly. But I’d had him since I was younger than you and he’d been with me through everything and I was so sure that it wasn’t the sort of thing you’d take to University if you were a proper grown up….oh I very suddenly found I was not at all too old to miss him, no matter what I’d thought! Especially when everything was so new and stressful. So the very first reading week we had, I went home- I said it was just to see my old friends but really mija, I wouldn’t have cared if I hadn’t seen a single one of them as long as I got to bring my books and my comfortable clothes and Benito back with me.’

‘Do you still have him?’ She wonders if Benito might be interested in making friends with an otter.

Catalina sighs. ‘No. He got lost along the way and I’ve always been a little bit sad about it. I like to think he is making some other little girl in Spain very happy- or perhaps someone who is not so little at all!’ 

‘Will I have to leave Tarkar behind when I go to University?’ (She doesn’t know quite what she wants to be yet but she knows she wants to go to University because Catalina’s stories make it sound so interesting.)

‘Not unless you want to. But whatever you decide to do, I’m sure you’ll take much better care of Tarkar than I took of Benito.’

‘I will.’ She says it seriously but Catalina laughs. It’s a nice laugh though.

‘Good. Now was there anything else querida? You sounded so upset when you called.’

It’s funny- she realises suddenly that over the course of the story, she’s not only stopped crying but she’s started feeling a lot more normal. Maybe it’s knowing that Tarkar is in her bag after all or maybe it’s how very well and alive Catalina sounds but whatever it is, she feels much more like herself.

She’s feeling  _ so _ much better that she almost doesn't want to tell Catalina what was really wrong before….but then she doesnt want her godmother- or Anna for that matter- to think she’s a silly baby for crying over a cuddly toy so she takes a deep breath.

‘I thought you might be hurt. Or sick. Or something.’

Catalina sounds astonished. ‘Why mija? I’m perfectly well.’

‘I thought…’ She fiddles with the cord of the phone. She doesn’t really like saying it but Catalina obviously doesn’t understand. ‘I thought maybe you might be hurt. Like….like Mum and Dad.’

There's a little pause. ‘Oh. Oh Cathy. Oh mija.’

Catalina sounds so very sad that she wonders for a moment if she’s said the wrong thing, and then there’s a long silence and her eyes start to burn again as if the tears are threatening to return. 

Then she sniffles and Catalina’s back on the phone, all hurried.

‘I’m so sorry you had to think about that querida. That must have been very, very scary for you. Especially being away from home.’

Catalina doesn’t sound cross but she still sounds sad.

‘.....I’m sorry.’

‘Oh mija, you have nothing to be sorry for!’ Catalina sounds most emphatic. ‘Nothing at all. I’m not in the least bit upset with you. I’m just so sorry we’re having this conversation over the phone and I can’t give you a hug. And I’m sorry you were having to think such things while I was off thinking about what a lovely time you must be having.’

‘I  _ was _ having a lovely time.’ She doesn’t want Catalina to think she’s been pathetic  _ all  _ night. ‘Just...when we went to bed. And- I couldn’t sleep and then I started thinking about Mum and Dad….’

Catalina hums sympathetically.

‘And…and it made me think about how I didnt even know that they weren’t ok until they weren’t there any more and maybe I wouldn’t know if you weren’t ok and maybe you might have gotten hurt while I was away and I wouldn’t know-’

‘Ok. Ok mija. Let's take some nice deep breaths, ok? Can you try for me? In and out.’

After a minute of doing deep calming breaths in time with Catalina on the phone, Catalina says ‘This is what I used to do with Maria when she was expecting you.’ 

It’s very unexpected- it’s always a bit odd to hear her mother referred to by her nickname and it’s also funny to think about her Mum and Catalina knowing each other before she was born. 

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes. Sometimes she would get so worried- she loved you so much, you see, and she wanted so badly to do everything right for you. She worried she might make a mistake.’

‘But you said I wasn’t born. How can you love someone who doesn’t exist yet?

‘Oh she loved you long, long before you were born mija. We both did- and Thomas too.’ Thomas she knows is her Dad. ‘I was in Spain and she was in England but she’d call me and we’d talk all about how excited she was to meet you and all the things you would do when you were grown up and how proud we’d all be- but sometimes she’d worry that she was going to make mistakes and then I’d tell her to take some deep breaths and remind her that everything was going to be ok.’

‘Like you’re doing for me.’

‘Like I’m doing for you.’

‘It wasn’t all ok though. She died. She and Dad can’t be proud of me because they’re dead. So it didn’t happen how you said it would at all.’ The tears are back properly now and she thinks that maybe just maybe Catalina’s voice sounds a bit watery too. 

‘I know mija. And it’s very very sad. But we have to try and think about the good things too, as well as the sad things.’

‘What good things?’ She isn’t sure there can be any good things- not when Mum and Dad are dead. How can she enjoy Catalina’s stories knowing how it’s all going to end? She’s sure that her Mum and Dad wouldn’t have been so happy thinking about all things she’d grow up to do if they’d known they wouldn’t be there to see any of them.

‘Well, there’s how much she loved you. That’s still a good thing. She loved you enough for a hundred years, enough for a thousand. How she thought about you every day, before she’d even met you, and how your Daddy did too. That’s a good thing. They were both so excited- you know, your Daddy called everybody he knew when you were born, everybody in his contacts list, people he hadn't spoken to for years and years, just to tell them he had a little girl.’

‘Tell me some more good things. Please.’

She likes that Catalina doesn’t even have to stop and think. ‘There are all the lovely memories you have with them- that’s a very, very good thing. No matter what happens mija, no one can take away your memories. There are all the things they taught you.’

‘Like how to ride a bike. And to swim.’

‘Yes-. And other things too- like how much you like reading. That’s something good that they left you with. That’s something you’ll always take with you. You know, your Daddy got you a library card when you were only just born.’ 

It’s funny to hear Catalina say that. She’d always sort of imagined liking reading of something that was just luck- but now it seems different. More special, like a present but not one you can see or touch.

‘Even just the way you look mija- your beautiful hair, for example. That’s something they’ve given you.’

‘Are there more good things?’

‘So many many more mija. I could talk all night and I’d still not have finished. It’s hard, it’s very hard sometimes to see the good things but that doesn’t mean they’re not there.’

The thought makes her cry a bit more- like the tears are feelings that she just doesn’t have room for any more. They’re not bad feelings- just  _ feelings _ . She can’t contain them and they overflow as tears.

‘Were you happy too? When I was born?’

‘So very happy mija, you cannot imagine. I had planned to come to see you and your Mummy and Daddy in England anyway but I was so impatient, I called them- I called to ask if I could possibly come early because I couldn’t wait. And you know, when I spoke to them on the phone, Maria said she had been asking Thomas if he thought _ I _ would mind coming earlier…because she so wanted to introduce me to you.’

Her voice softens. ‘I have never been sadder than when we lost Maria and Thomas but- since we cannot change that mija, as much as I wish we could, I’m so very happy that I can take care of you for them. And I like to think they would be happy too. I think they  _ are _ happy too. As much as they'd prefer to be with you themselves...I think they’re happy that you’re with me because they know that I love you like they did. And I  _ know _ they’re so very, very proud of you. Of what a very brave, clever, good girl their daughter has become.’ 

They’re both definitely crying now but it doesn't hurt like her tears before had hurt, and when she can talk again, she feels better.  _ Lighter. _ Her eyes are very very sore and her mouth feels dry, but somehow, she doesn't feel so scared anymore.

Thinking about her parents- in a good way- hurts but in a way that feels right. Healthy, almost. Something that hurts but that is good for you too, like hard exercise and injections. She wonders if sometimes the things that are good for you- the things that you need- do just hurt a little bit, if that's just how some things in life are.

There’s a little pause as they both sniffle into the phone...and then Catalina gives a little laugh and says ‘Oh mija I shan't be able to scold you for wiping your nose on your sleeve any more, I ran out of tissues-’ and she starts laughing a bit even as she's still crying. 

It feels good to be able to smile.

‘Good.’

‘You can remind me of this when I tell you off for it.’

‘I will.’

‘Are you feeling a little bit better now mija?’

‘Yes.’ She actually means it.

‘Good. I think perhaps we should maybe have another talk about this soon, yes? Properly, when we’re both a bit less tired and when we can see each other and I can give you a proper cuddle.’

That sounds quite nice.

‘Ok.’

‘Ok. ‘ There’s a pause. ‘Shall I come and get you now mija? I’m not as worried about leaving you anymore.’

‘Will you really come?’

It’s been a tiny niggling worry at the back of her mind the whole time- that maybe Catalina is just trying to distract her, to make her forget about having to drive over to get her in the middle of the night, that maybe she’s just planning on telling her that now she doesn't really need to come home at all...but Catalina sounds shocked she’s ever asking.

‘Of course! Of course I will. I could be with you in...hmm, about half an hour? Forty minutes at the most.’

‘Really?’

She sounds very serious. ‘Mija if I can, I will always come and get you if you need me.’

‘What about when I’m grown up?’

‘Always. If you need me, I will come, even when you're grown up.’

‘What if I'm somewhere really far away?’

‘Then it might take longer but I’ll still come.’

‘What if you're really tired?’

‘Even then. I’ll drink lots of coffee and sleep when you’re safe back home.’

‘What if I make you really really angry? What if-’ She tries to think of the worst thing she can imagine. ‘What if I break all your nice things and shout at you and say I hate you and...and steal money from you and...and and set the sofa on fire and…’

‘Then I will be angry and sad and you will owe me a new sofa….but I will still come.’

There's a pause as she takes it in.

‘Will you be alright now if I hang up now mija? I’ll be as quick as I can.’

She thinks about it. 

She thinks about Catalina having to get up and get dressed and drive in the dark and about having to have her knock on the door and wake everyone up and explain why she's going home. 

She thinks about Anne waking up without her on the morning after her birthday and about how it would mean that Anna will have had a proper sleepover with Anne and she won’t. 

She thinks about Tarkar waiting for her in her bag, about how cosy her bed in Anne’s room suddenly seems and about how sleepy she’s starting to feel. 

She thinks about how Anne has said that Mary has promised to make them pancakes for the post-sleepover birthday breakfast and about whipped cream. And strawberries. And Nutella.

She takes a deep breath.

‘It’s ok. You don't have to come. I’m- I’m alright now.’

‘Are you sure mija? I promise it’s no trouble. I wouldn't be in the least bit upset with you and neither would anyone else.’

She thinks, wavers….and then makes up her mind. ‘No, it's ok. I'm sleepy now anyway. And Mary said she’d make pancakes and Anne said she brought whipped cream specially. The kind in a squirty can.’

Catalina chuckles. ‘Alright mija. That does sound worth staying for. Snuggle down with Tarkar and dream about something nice for me, alright?’

‘Ok.’ She pauses. ‘I'm sorry I woke you up.’

‘Oh mija you have nothing at all to be sorry for! ! I’m so glad you called- I’d hate to think of you miserable and not calling me.’

‘I nearly didn’t.’

‘What made you change your mind?’

‘Anna said I should. She said it would make me feel better.’

‘Well she sounds like a very sensible and nice girl.’

She normally bristles when her godmother so much as suggests that Anna might have  _ any _ redeeming qualities...but somehow she just doesn't feel that hot surge of irritation any more. 

After all, Anna  _ did _ help. If it wasn't for Anna, she realises, she’d just be lying in bed and feeling sadder and sadder by the minute and who knows how sad she’d have been by morning? Probably too sad to want even a small pancake and what a waste of a treat that would be.

‘Yes, she is. She’s very nice. And she’s keeping BT in business.’

Catalina chuckles again. ‘Well that’s good to know. Will you do something for me mija? Is Anna still with you?’ 

‘Yes.’

‘Could you pass the phone to her for just a minute?’

Anna is half asleep on the floor when Cathy nudges her with the receiver. ‘She wants to talk to you again.’

Anna takes it. Again there is buzzing and another couple of yeses and thank yous- and then Catalina is back.

‘Thank you mija. I just wanted to say thank you to her myself for giving you such good advice.’

She thinks for a minute. ‘I’ll say thank you too. And do something nice back for her- when I’ve thought of something.’

She can almost hear Catalina smiling down the phone. ‘Well that’s a lovely idea querida.’ She lets herself feel a little glow of pride and then Catalina stifles a yawn. ‘Now, you and Anna should probably go and get some sleep before it’s time for pancakes…’

‘Ok.’

‘Just one more thing before you go to bed, I want you to imagine something for me. Can you do that?’

‘Yes’

‘I want you to imagine I’m giving you a big big hug, ok? A very big hug- to last you until morning. Don’t use it all up at once, mind.’

The idea of trying to save a hug- like its a chocolate bar or a bag of crisps- is novel enough to make her smile- and then she yawns.

‘Ok. I won’t.’

‘Good. Sweet dreams mija. Sleep well and I’ll see you very soon.’

‘Good night Catalina.’

‘God bless querida. I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

She puts the phone down.

There's a second when the shakiness feels like it might come back- just a second, and then Anna is standing up, stumbling a bit because her foot has gone to sleep, and Cathy has to catch her arm to steady her.

‘Oooh!’

‘Sorry-’

‘It’s ok. Are you alright?’

‘Yes. Just my foot, it’s all tingly and funny-’ Anna puts weight on it experimentally. ‘Are you better now?’

She nods. ‘Yes.’

‘I was really worried. You looked so,  _ so _ sad.’

‘I was. But I’m ok now.’ She pauses. ‘Thank you for staying with me. And for making me use the phone. It was a good idea.’

‘It’s ok. Your godmother is nice.’

‘She is nice.’

‘She said thank you for getting you to call and that I sounded like a very sensible clever girl and a very good friend for you to have and that she was pleased to meet me even if it was over the phone and that she’d heard a lot about me.’ Anna pauses. ‘Did you really tell her about me?’

‘Yes…’ She hopes Anna won’t ask if they were always  _ nice _ things.

Anna looks surprised. ‘I didn't think you liked me. Much.’ She looks a bit awkward as she says it and Cathy suddenly feels hot guilt in her tummy. Somehow it didn't seem so bad to not like Anna when she thought Anna hadn’t noticed but now….

She shakes her head quickly. ‘I do. At least I do now. And not  _ just  _ now. I liked you. A bit. Before. Even when I didn't want to.’

She wonders if Anna will be really, really cross with her, or worse if she’ll cry, and the guilt burns worse than ever….but when she looks up, Anna is squirming a bit too, as if she is the mean one.

‘I liked you too. Even when I didn't want to. I-’ She pauses. ‘I wasn't so happy when you came back’ She says in a rush ‘I mean I was sort of happy because you seemed nice- you let me play even when you looked like you didn't want to and I felt a bit bad...but...when I started, I didn’t know anyone and I was so happy that Anne wanted to be friends and then she said it was just until you came back to school and...I hoped and hoped that you wouldn't come back at all and that you'd end up going to a new school so that I could keep on being friends with Anne….and then I felt bad because you let Anne stay friends with me even when you did come back….’

She breaks off and they look at one another. 

Cathy waits to see if she’ll feel angry over what Anna has said, as Anna is obviously expecting her to be….but to her surprise, she finds that she isn't. 

Her main feeling is relief- the guilt in her tummy is nearly gone, now that she knows she wasn't the only one having not-so-nice thoughts secretly.

‘It’s ok. We’re even now.’

She smiles at Anna and crooks her little finger, and Anna smiles back and hooks it with her own and they shake on it. Then Anna shivers and Cathy realises how cold her hand is.

‘You're freezing! Let's go back to bed quick so you can warm up.’

‘Its ok, I don't really mind. I was getting a bit hot anyway- the duvet is really big!’ 

They start up the stairs.

When they get into Anne’s room, she expects Anna to go straight back to bed but she hangs back. 

‘Cathy...can I see your otter? Just quickly before we go to sleep? Only I heard you say that you DID bring him and I've never seen a toy otter before…’

She can't imagine not knowing you could have toy otters and feels a little bit sorry for Anna.

When she fishes Tarkar out of the bottom of her bag, there’s a yellow post-it stuck to his back with Catalina’s handwriting: ‘ _ Just in case _ ’ and then three kisses.

She tucks the note and the kisses safely into the pocket of her pyjamas and hands Tarkar over and Anna strokes him admiringly. ‘He’s lovely. I'm going to ask mutti for an otter for my birthday- we saw otters at the zoo once, they were so cute and funny.’

‘I like the otters at the zoo best too. Catalina’s going to take me and Anne to the zoo when it's the holidays and she can get some time off work. She promised.’ She pauses, stroking Tarkar’s foot. ‘Maybe...maybe you could come too. If you’d like.’

Anna’s eyes are all big and shiny. ‘Yes! Yes please!’ She gives a happy little bounce and then yawns in the middle of it and they both giggle.

Anna hands Tarkar back and goes back to Kitty’s bed and Cathy gets into the camp bed. 

She’s shivery enough that the big duvet actually feels quite nice now- cozy rather than stifling, and she’s so tired that even the pillow doesn't bother her so much any more. The washing powder smell is still strange- but Tarkar smells reassuringly familiar. 

She buries her face in his fur and dreams of home. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abject apologies for this being quite a dull chapter!
> 
> Feedback/comments/any thoughts at all would be so welcome and appreciated- thank you so much for the lovely, lovely kind thoughtful comments so far, they mean so much to me!
> 
> Speaking of jelly aliens...WAS it only my school that claimed putting them in the freezer caused them to breed? Because i thought this was universal but my girlfriend hadn't heard of it so....?

Catalina arrives early, when they’re still finishing the last of the birthday pancakes.

Anna is spreading Nutella with a surgeon's precision to ensure it covers her pancake right to the edges; Anne is running her fingers through a maple syrup puddle on the table and licking them. Baby Catherine is chewing on a bit of plain pancake in her highchair and Mary is putting the pan in the dishwasher. 

She’s only eating the strawberries but she aims a cuff at Anne when Anne asks if it’s because she’s on another diet and tells her to mind her own business. Anne subsides with a giggle and steals a spoonful of Nutella straight from the jar, whispering that Mary couldn’t fit into her new jeans when she tried them on last weekend. Mary’s face goes redder than the strawberries and she looks crosser than ever- but they’re interrupted by the doorbell.

Cathy abandons her own pancake-face (with a Father Christmas beard of snowy white whipped cream- it looks excellent even though she’s not really that fond of the taste of whipped cream) when she hears Catalina’s voice in the hall doing the boring grown up  _ Garden’s looking lovely, traffic, parking, price of petrol  _ stuff that all grown ups seem incapable of _ not _ saying when they meet each other.

(She’s glad that when she sees Anne and her other friends, they can just jump right into talking about interesting things like books and television and whether rubbing two jelly aliens together and putting them in the freezer makes then make a tiny alien baby, and is it murder if your tamagotchi dies because you weren’t allowed to get down from Sunday Lunch to feed it, and is it true that if you swallow chewing gum, it ties up your stomach and kills you, and how it is that the chocolate in the bottom of a Cornetto manages to taste so much nicer than normal chocolate, and why is it that sharpening your pencil is boringboringboring when you’re in the middle of drawing a picture but really satisfying and fun when it means you get to stop doing handwriting practise to do it, and is it true that there was a boy in Year Four who stuck his whole finger into the teachers special electric pencil sharpener on a dare and had the tip of his finger sharpened away to nothing?)

She doesn’t quite have the courage to interrupt- but when Catalina sees her hovering in the doorway,  _ she _ interrupts herself and stops agreeing with Anne’s Mum that the price of petrol is extortionate nowadays and gives Cathy such a big hug it lifts her right off her feet.

‘Mija!’

She lets herself cling tight for a moment and then lets go- she isn’t a baby after all, although there’s a little bit of her that wishes she was Kitty’s age so she could be picked up and cuddled properly. 

‘How are you?’

She nods. ‘I’m ok.’

Anne’s Mum does a bit lipsticky smile like a lady in an advert and asks if she slept well and she nods again. ‘Yes thank you.’

She hopes Catalina has mostly forgotten last night and doesn’t bring it up to Anne’s Mum.

(She knows grown ups can be so sneaky like that sometimes, sharing your secret things with one another and pretending they’re doing it for your own good.) 

She especially hopes that Anna won’t say anything- she hasn't yet but you never know, and even though Cathy doesnt think she’d say anything on purpose, she might just by mistake. She can’t even ask Anna to keep quiet because then Anne will hear and want to know what it is that Anna is meant to keep quiet about.

And Anne is _ terrible _ with secrets.

Not with keeping them, she’s actually very very good at withstanding all sorts of secret-spilling torture, even Chinese Burns, but with wanting to know other people’s. Once she knows them, she’s always perfectly happy to not tell anyone else, on pain of death- but Cathy still doesn't want to have to explain everything about last night to Anne. She doesn’t want Anne to think that she didn’t enjoy her birthday after all.

Anne’s Mum says that Catalina would be welcome to stay for a cup of coffee- or a  _ Cappuccino _ or an  _ Afogato _ even- but that the Photographer will be arriving soon. She says the word like photographer should have a capital letter.

Anne bobs up out of nowhere, licking Nutella from her fingers and asking what photographer and can’t Cathy and Anna stay to play a bit longer.

Anne’s Mum hisses at her not to be silly,  _ of course _ they can't stay and  _ of course _ Anne knows who the photographer is, she’s told her  _ all about it _ .

‘It’s for the birthday photoshoot.’ She adds to Catalina and Catalina nods politely and says it sounds lovely.

‘But it's not my birthday.’

‘Well, it'll be like a second birthday.’ Anne’s Mum’s smile is still there but it’s looking a bit forced now.

Anne seems to perk up a bit at the idea of a second birthday, and Cathy is just wondering if she’ll be allowed to have two birthdays two if this is now a Thing, when Anne pauses.

‘But then Cathy and Anna  _ have _ to stay or it won't be a proper party!’

Anne’s Mum gives an impatient little sigh. ‘Of course it isn't a proper party! I do wish you'd listen- it's a photoshoot, like I said.’

‘But you just said it was my second birthday!’

‘For goodness sake Anne! I shouldn't have to explain every little thing to you- you’re eight now, you're not a baby!’

Anne scowls.

‘You’re going to say goodbye to Cathy nicely and then go and have a shower so you can be ready…. With any luck, your friend’s parents will be here soon too before the other children get here.’

Cathy wonders if Anne’s Mum has forgotten Anna’s name.

‘But if there are other children anyway,  _ why _ can't I have Anna and Cathy?’

‘Well it's only fair!’ The smile falters and is hurriedly replaced. ‘They’ve come to the sleepover so we thought it would be nice to spread things around a bit and let your other friends be part of the photoshoot!’

It’s uncomfortable and horrible listening to Anne get scolded: it feels like there is something sad and grey making the air heavier.

Anne’s mum is scowling like she’s really really annoyed and she’s so glad that Catalina is not like Anne’s Mum and doesn't get cross when she asks questions- she knows if she was suddenly told she was having a photoshoot, she’d be asking even more questions than Anne.

Actually, she’s glad Catalina is not like Anne’s Mum, full stop.

‘Which other friends?’

Cathy wonders if maybe Anne has got some other girls from their class coming to play once she and Anna are gone, and it’s not a nice thought, but then Anne’s Mum starts saying names and she doesn’t recognise any of them.

‘-and Ingrid and Patience and Harriet-’

‘But I don't like them!’

‘Of course you do!’

Anne does an experimental single stamp of her foot; it’s like a challenge. ‘I  _ hate _ them-’

They don’t hear the rest, because at that moment, Anna comes into the hall, looking confused at all the commotion, and Anne’s Mum sighs and seizes Anne by the wrist and tugs her further down the hall.

It’s all a bit awkward. Catalina is asking Anna how she is and if she had a nice time at the sleepover but she can’t listen properly, because really, all she can pay attention to is the cross sound of Anne’s Mum’s voice as she hisses things in Anne’s ear while she Anne squirms and whines and tries to pull away.

When they come back, Anne has stopped arguing.

‘What do we say?’

‘Thank you for coming, Cathy.’ 

She hates how Anne looks now, all sad and crumpled and flat. It's not at all how you should look on your birthday (or even the day after your birthday) and she has to hang onto Catalina’s hand tightly to stop her stomach from squeezing uncomfortably.

She can only manage a little ‘Thank you for inviting me’ in response, which doesn’t really feel like a good enough response considering it was her first sleepover ever, but Catalina squeezes her hand and then smiles warmly at Anne.

‘I hope you had a lovely birthday, carino. A photoshoot sounds like it will be lots of fun- im sure Cathy will be very excited to hear about it on Monday. I'm certainly interested in hearing about it!’

(She might be annoyed, at any other time, at Catalina calling Anne one of the names that’s really just for her- but she isn’t now. She just wants Anne to go back to looking normal and happy like she usually does.)

Catalina squeezes Cathy's hand again, and bit more firmly this time and she realises she’s meant to add something.

‘It'll be like being a celebrity…’ She’s not sure if she sounds very convincing so she tries harder. ‘You’re so lucky, Anne! Everyone at school will be so jealous!’

Anne’s Mum gives an approving nod and beams at her, and she turns her head so she doesn’t have to see it. Anne gives a very small reluctant smile. She doesn't say anything but she looks a tiny bit more cheerful as she goes up to shower, Anna trailing behind her.

They say another goodbye and thank you to Anne’s Mum and then they’re out onto the pavement.

She’s still holding onto Catalina’s hand but Catalina doesn’t seem to mind, she swings their joined hands between them.

‘So how was the sleepover? Did you have a lovely time mija?’

She nods.

‘What did you do? Did Anne like her present?’

‘She loved it. She said it was her second best favourite present.’

‘What was her first?’

Cathy describes the heelies and Catalina laughs. ‘Thank goodness! I was going to ask if you girls had had a fight, to get those bruises-’

Cathy twists her arm and notices for the first time the purply blue bruises blooming. 

‘It’s ok, they don’t hurt. I only fell over a bit. Anne fell over much more but that’s because she was trying to do a jump like the ice skaters on tv.’

‘Well I'm glad she liked her presents so much. Poor little thing.’

(Cathy isn’t sure why Catalina calls Anne poor- everyone at school, even the teachers, know that Anne’s parents have  _ more money than sense _ . This means they’re rich.)

‘Anna thought my present was really good too. She said her present was really boring next to mine and she’d have to think up something more interesting next time.’

‘What did she get Anne?’

‘Jewelry making set. You can make earrings that you can wear even if you don’t have pierced ears.’ She hopscotches along the paving stones- it doesn’t really work like proper hopscotch though because they’re too close together. ‘Although Anna has her ears pierced already.’

(She’s a tiny bit jealous of Anna’s tiny gold studs- they look very cool. They’re not enough to make her want holes punched in her ears though, even the thought makes her feel a bit sick. Anne thinks she’s silly- she’d LOVE to have her ears pierced. 

She’s not allowed though, because ear piercings are one of the few things Anne’s Mum and Jane agree on, albeit for different reasons: Jane thinks Anne is much too young, Anne’s Mum says it’ll make her look common.

Anne doesn’t think she’s too young, and she says that she doesn’t care about looking common because she wants to look cool...but neither Jane nor her Mum will budge.)

‘Did Anne like it?’

‘I think she did. She said that we could all make jewelry for the Inca Princess next time Anna and I came over to play. And then Anna cheered up a bit. I think she was worried Anne wouldn't like her present.’

Cathy doesn't feel like saying that she was also worried Anne wouldn't like her present. It feels funny also to be talking about Anna and not talking about the night before….but hopefully, it maybe means that Catalina has forgotten all about it.

She doesn’t bring it up on the walk home anyway- Catalina listens with great interest to an edited version of the story of the little attic girl, giving very appreciative gasps in all the right places and not interrupting even once to ask silly questions about whether or not the little girl has a swimming pool. 

‘That was an excellent story mija.’

‘Really?’ Catalina looks like she means it.

‘Wonderful-  _ very  _ imaginative. Makes me glad we don’t have an attic!’

Cathy giggles. ‘Anne said the little attic girl would come to my attic tonight and I reminded her that we didn’t have one and she said that next time, she was going to make up a story about a little girl who lived in a flat. Anna said it didn’t sound very scary.’

‘I suppose you’ll have to wait to hear it to know if it is or not.’

‘Anna said I should make up another story for next time.’

‘Well, I hope you’ll tell me if you think any more up, I’d love to hear them.’

‘Ok.’ Perhaps she’ll make up a story specially for Catalina- a special grown up story that has grown up things in it, like when they play Soap Opera in the playground and everyone plays that they’re having cancer and babies and cocktails. ‘It might be scary though.’

‘That's ok, mija. You have to let the muses guide you when you’re  _ creating _ .’ 

Cathy knows all about  _ the muses _ already- they’re spirity things that give you ideas and imagination when you’re doing art or writing, they’re what Catalina blames when she’s having trouble phrasing an idea for work.

(Not only are the muses very friendly to Artists of All Kinds, they are actually rather useful when it comes to the resultant mess of artistic endeavour.

Catalina introduced her to the concept on The Muses on her second week, the first time she’d tried painting in her new bedroom and coincidently the first time she’d made any actual serious mess there.

It hadn’t been her fault that the paint had spilled like it did and it hadn’t spilled  _ much _ , but it had been enough to make her ponder what it would be like to see her godmother Properly Angry.

She hadn’t, until that moment, considered what a Properly Angry Catalina would look like. As she thought about it- and it wasn’t a terribly nice thought- she also realised that whatever form it took, there was nothing she could do about it. There wasn’t anywhere else for her to go. 

She wondered if, seeing the paint, Catalina would think about that too. She wondered if it would make her regret having to be the one to take care of her.

She’d never been scared of her godmother, but she was when Catalina saw the paint.

‘Ay dios mio, what IS that?’

She tucked her chin down into her chest. ‘Paint.’ Her voice is very small.

Catalina fanned her face. ‘I thought it was blood, I thought-’ She shakes her head hard, like she’s shaking thoughts away, then touches it and frowns. ‘It’s dried. Why didn’t you tell me before, it would have been easier to- Oh mija, it’s alright, don’t cry-’

She started looking guilty rather than annoyed.

Once Cathy was settled in her lap, scrubbing her sore eyes with a tissue and only hiccuping a little bit, Catalina had very nicely explained that while it was technically Cathy’s fault for spilling the paint, it was also her own fault for not telling Cathy to put down newspaper before she started painting and that maybe having a cream carpet was  _ just asking for it _ , whatever that meant.

‘So perhaps it all balances out, querida.’

‘Are you really cross?’

‘Do I look really cross, mija?’

She considered. ‘No.’

‘Good, because I’m not. I know it wasn’t on purpose. Let’s just both try to remember the newspaper next time, ok?’

‘Ok.’

‘And we’ll blame the muses for this one.’

Once Catalina had explained about the muses, she’d said that they should probably get on with cleaning it up ‘before someone else sees it and thinks you’ve got a body hidden under your bed.’

She’d still felt a bit wobbly, when she thought about the stain. Catalina had given her a big cuddle and said that a little paint wasn’t the end of the world and that it would probably come right out. It turned out though that Catalina herself wasn’t really sure how to get paint out of carpet, so she’d gotten out her phone to check- ‘ _ There’s no excuse for not finding things out nowadays, mija’ _ \- and she’d even let Cathy type the question into google herself.

The paint had come out on the second attempt, and Catalina had made her promise to always tell her right away if anything like that ever happened again.

So everything had worked out alright after all, even if she still hadn’t seen Catalina really, properly angry yet.)

*

Going back to the flat feels funny because it feels like coming home but everything also looks a little bit different- Catalina reassures her that it’s just how things feel sometimes after a trip.

‘It’ll go away mija’

Cathay still cant help looking around though. ‘Why are the books different?’

‘What’s that?’

Cathy points at the bookshelf- the spines are different colours.

‘Just felt like it was time for a little shuffle around, it makes me remember which books I haven’t looked at for a while.’

This makes sense.

It’s the middle of the morning: Catalina has a mug of the dark, rich coffee that she buys in little paper sacks from the special food shop in town. Cathy likes the smell but not the taste, although she hopes that will change when she grows up because coffee seems to be all that grownups drink. Coffee and wine, except she isn’t sure if she likes wine yet- Catalina lets her sip at her coffee when she asks but she hasn’t yet given in over Cathy’s requests to be allowed a taste of her merlot.

(‘Maybe when you’re nine or ten, mija. I just don’t dare any earlier, the harpies would tear me to pieces.’

Harpies is what Catalina calls the other mums at school; Cathy isn’t allowed to tell anyone that though, even Anne,  _ on pain of every unpleasant torture, mi vida. _

‘A glass?’

‘A  _ sip _ . A  _ very _ little sip. And not until you’re older, like I said.’

‘I could just not tell anyone.’ 

Cathy is quite good at not telling people things, she’s good at keeping secrets- which is why she doesn’t even give Catalina a list of some of her best, most well kept secrets to prove it- like how Anne spilt blue nail polish on the carpet in Mary’s bedroom and blamed it on Kitty even though it wasn’t exactly a lie because Kitty had been playing with it too and it really could just as easily been her and honestly, it would have been fairer, all things considered, for Kitty to be the one to spill it, considering she’s only little.

Catalina is shaking her head.

‘But I’m very good at keeping secrets!’

‘I know, mija-’

‘I didn’t tell my teacher that you did the last sum for me on my homework.’

Catalins gives her a stern look. ‘ _ Good _ because as I recall, that was a deal we made so that you would go to bed and stop worrying about it.’

‘And I didn’t tell her. So you could let me try and I wouldn’t tell anyone.’

‘But wouldn’t it be a bit pointless if you couldn’t tell anyone? Wouldn’t you want to tell Anne?’

This is true- it’s actually a bit pointless if she can’t even tell Anne, although Anne surely doesn’t count as  _ anyone _ \- but she doesn’t want to weaken her position so she shakes her head steadfastly, and Catalina laughs and says she’ll be a wonderful lawyer when she’s older and gives her a kiss on the top of her head rather than a sip of wine.)

They have fancy twisty pastries with apricot jam and Cathy has a mug of warm frothy milk with a tiny bit of coffee in it, a pinch of cinnamon and a sprinkling of brown sugar. It doesn't matter that it’s not real coffee- it's much nicer than coffee anyway.

The coffee milk in the special china cup with her name on it, even though she’s already had one breakfast because Catalina had said she hadn’t eaten yet and did she think she could manage elevenses even if it wasn’t quite eleven?

She thought she probably could, having not finished her pancake and she was right. The apricot pastries are delicious; she thinks it’s what sunshine would taste like sunshine was spreadable. Catalina says that’s the best description of apricot jam she has ever heard.

She’s reading one of her library books- the last time Catalina had visited her, back when her parents were alive, she’d brought one of the series with her and read it aloud while they were waiting for lunch to be ready and she’d quite liked it, but now reading it for herself, she doesn’t recognise all the characters.

Catalina had read her a story about Juliana and Diane and George (who was really Georgina) and Anne and Timmy the Cat, who were cousins and had adventures on an island- but when she tries to read it for herself, the names are different and the children are different and it’s a dog not a cat, who keeps on  _ licking _ everything and  _ barking _ and it’s just not as good as before.

(She has no idea why the children decided to swap lovely clever Timmy the Cat for a horrible barky, licky, bitey dog. She thinks it was a bad decision.)

She wonders if maybe she picked out something different.

Catalina has a big thick book that looks dusty.

‘What are you reading?’

‘Mmm?’ Catalina looks up and then nods as if she’s had to replay it in her head. ‘Oh!’ She says something in Spanish and then adds ‘But it’s called something else in English, of course.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘A little boy called Pip and all his adventures.’

‘What sort of adventures?’ She’s wondering if it will turn out that they’re the sort of adventures the children are having in her book and Catalina smiles.

‘No island, mija, you’d be disappointed. He meets an escaped prisoner out late one night and he helps him to cut off his chains and run away. And later he goes to a big old beautiful house, which has a room all ready for a wedding that never happened.’

‘That’s strange. If it never happened, then it’s not anything, so how can she have a room for it?’

‘They had everything ready but the groom didn’t turn up so the lady sits in her wedding dress next to her old cobwebby wedding cake all covered in dust and thinks about how sad she is.’

‘Oh.’ That sounds spooky but also interesting- she thinks maybe there’ll be an old cobwebby cake in her next scary story because for some reason, the idea of something that’s meant to be so happy being all forgotten and abandoned makes her feel shivery and she’s sure Anne and Anna will feel just the same way. Then she thinks of something else.

‘Why was he out at night at all? Not the prisoner but the little boy.’

Catalina looks uncomfortable for some reason. ‘I think he was just playing.’

‘But weren’t his parents worried about him?’

There’s a little pause and then Catalina says ‘He didn’t have any parents, querida.’

‘Oh. How old was he?’ Maybe the boy is nearly grown up, like in Secondary School.

‘Seven.’

She isn’t quite sure how she feels about that but she doesn’t feel like asking any more questions so there’s a little silence before Catalina says that she’s just finished the chapter.

‘I think I need a little break from reading.’ She puts her book down on the floor, face down. ‘Want to come and keep me company, mija?’

Cathy nods slowly and puts down her own book, except she uses a bookmark because she knows that’s the  _ proper _ way to treat a book. 

(Catalina is hopeless with bookmarks and always refuses Cathy’s offers to lend her one.

‘I’d lose it in a moment mija, and then I would have so much guilt! But thank you, all the same.’

Cathy has big plans for when her class starts their textiles projects, in which Catalina’s poorly treated books AND her sad, bookmarkless state, feature quite heavily. But she’s keeping this a surprise.)

She hasn’t finished her own chapter but she doesn’t like the way that these strange new characters keep telling George she isn’t allowed to do things because she’s a girl. She supposes it’s nice that Anne is allowed to cook- cooking on a real fire outside sounds very exciting- but she wonders if she ever gets tired of it.

‘It’s not the same as when you read it. They’re really horrible to George. And they don’t even have a cat anymore.’

She climbs up onto Catalina’s lap and Catalina wraps her arms around her.

‘I might have….changed some bits when I was reading it to you. I thought it would make the story better.’

‘It DID make the story better. Now it’s boring.’

Catalina considers. ‘I could try reading it to you my way if you like, querida.’

‘That’s ok. I think I’m going to take a break from reading too.’

‘Ok.’

Catalina cuddles her closer and for a while they just sit like that. She thinks about the little boy meeting the prisoner out at night, with no one to worry about him, but it’s not too bad to think about when she’s got Catalina’s cardigan tickling her cheek and Catalina’s chin resting on the top of her head. 

Maybe she’ll include a prisoner in her next story too. Maybe he could even team up with the little attic girl and they could go around scaring people and sewing up mouths together.

‘Did he have a godmother?’

‘Who?’

‘Pip. Oh- no, he didn’t. He had an older sister, he lived with her instead.’

‘Like Anne and Mary.’

‘Anne still has her parents, mija, you know that.’ But Catalina doesn’t sound so very certain when she says it.

There’s a little pause, and then Catalina quietly asks if she’d like to talk.

‘About what?’

‘About last night mija.’

‘What about last night?’

She's being deliberately annoying but she can't help it because maybe if she carries on, Catalina will change her mind and they won’t have to talk about anything.

She wouldn't even mind Catalina getting really cross (she doesn’t think), whatever really cross is for Catalina (because she still isn’t sure), but she doesn’t, just puts her book down and takes another sip of naslty bitter black coffee.

‘About the phone call we had.’ She pauses. ‘There's no need to look so worried querida- I promise you're not in trouble, I'm not going to tell you off- and we don't have to talk now if you really would rather not. It’s just that last night, we talked a bit about some of the things you were worried about. And about your mum and dad. I think it would be a good idea to talk about some of those things properly- not because i think it will fix them but….maybe it will make them a bit more ordinary to talk about them. And perhaps less scary. I don't know.’

She actually sounds a bit anxious, much less self assured than usual. Usually, Catalina talks like she knows exactly what she’s saying and why. Now she keeps stopping and starting, like she’s worried she’ll say something wrong.

‘I want you to feel like you can tell me anything- that there isn't anything you have to keep secret unless you want to. And you can always always talk to me. About anything you want. Ok?’

She nods. She wonders if Catalina  _ really _ means anything- anything. 

‘Good, bad, sad, happy, whatever. And you can ask me anything, I don't want you to ever feel like you can't ask a question.’

Cathy thinks. ‘What if you can't tell me? What if it’s secret?’

Catalina smiles. ‘Then I will explain to you why I can’t tell you. But I won't be cross with you for asking, that’s the important thing. And I will always try to answer, if I can, alright?’

She nods again. ‘Will you tell the truth?’

‘Yes. It doesn't seem fair to ask you to be honest if I won’t be honest myself. And we do need to be honest with each other, mija. It's the only way.’

‘The only way for what?’

‘The only way to….keep our family going. Going smoothly, I mean. We’ll be a family whatever happens, of course, smooth or not.’

‘Are we a family?’ It’s a surprise to her- she’d sort of assumed that wasn't a word that applied to her any more, like  _ Mother  _ and  _ Father  _ and  _ Parents _ .

‘Yes i think so.’ Catalina looks serious. ‘You and your Mum and Dad are still a family, of course. But you and I are a family too. At least I like to think we are. If that's ok with you of course.’

Cathy thinks about it. ‘If we’re a family, does that mean I have to call you Mum?’

Catalina looks shocked. ;Oh no! No, definitely not querida, I promise I'd never want to try and take your Mum’s name or place. I never at all meant that. I'm still your godmother- your Mum will always be your Mum. Not all families have a Mum and a Dad.’

‘Like in the story about Tango the Penguin.’ It’s a book she had when she was very little, but she can still remember the story.

‘Exactly.’ Actually, she thinks maybe Catalina sent her the book in the first place.

She could ask more questions about it- some that she’s mildly curious about, and some that she could probably make up if she felt like making this bit of the conversation stretch out longer...but she decides not too because Catalina is looking all anxious now and it's making her feel a bit guilty.

It’s alright- the thought of her and Catalina being a family is ok. She’d rather have Catalina for her family than anyone else, if she can't have mum and dad and she knows that she can't.

She wriggles into a more comfortable position in Catalina’s lap.

‘Ok. We can be a family.’

‘Good.’ Catalina smiles like she’s really relieved. ‘Good.’

After a while, she says, ‘There’s something I thought you might like to look at mija. I’ve been meaning to for a while and then last night, I thought of it.’

She stiffens slightly. She isn’t sure how she feels thinking about last night- one minute, the scary feeling seems very far away and all she can think about is stupid things like how babyish she must have sounded crying into the phone, and then the next, she can remember it very very well and it makes her feel shaky and sick, like she’s standing somewhere high and looking down. 

She buries her face into Catalina’s cardigan and then has to come back out because the fluff is making her sneeze and Catalina laughs and slides her gently off her lap and says she’ll be back in a moment.

She wraps both arms around her tummy, hugging herself and wondering what The Thing will be.

When Catalina comes back in, she’s holding an old shoebox.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get a bit of background in there so we can see some of Maud and Thomas (yes, I know Catalina calls her Maria, it's an in-joke between them).
> 
> As a side note- I'm interested in what people thought of Catalina's explanation of why she no longer has dreadlocks, and also just the terminology- because I've heard that dreadlocks is meant to have a racist etymology? Google hasn't been terribly helpful in finding out if there is a more appropriate term to use. If anyone does pick up on this and feels like sharing their thoughts, it'd be most appreciated! 
> 
> Of course, any and all other feedback is appreciated too! 
> 
> Thank you all so so so much for your comments- I get so happy seeing that I have new ones added, and you're all so lovely!

It just looks like any normal old shoebox, and not very interesting at all, but when she takes off the battered lid, Cathy sees it's full of photos and letters, folded up flyers, shells and all sorts of little bits and pieces.

‘It’s my special keepsake box.’ Catalina’s cheeks are tinged pink. ‘I thought maybe you'd like to have a look at it together, because there's a lot of stuff, a lot of photos and things from your Mum in it. Even some from your Dad too.’ 

Looking at it makes her stomach clench because it reminds her that she doesn't have anything like this- Mum was  _ her _ Mum but what does she have to remember her by?

But then Catalina goes on to say that maybe Cathy would like to start making her own one- only if she wants to of course, but if she does, she’s welcome to pick out some pictures if there are any she likes.

And that's an interesting idea.

She picks up the box, so she can tip everything out and see it at once but stops herself just in time- but when she glances up, catalina smiles and nods encouragingly. 

‘Have a little look through mija, if you’d like.You can tip them out if it makes it easier- it wont hurt them. I'm going to wash up quickly and then I'll come back.’

Photos spill out onto the carpet, a rainbow of colours until she starts to focus on them individually. Her mum and dad stare out at her from a hundred tiny windows into the past.

*

She sifts through the slippery prints and then stops suddenly and holds it up for Catalina to see.

‘Look!’

Her Mum looks younger in this picture but very tired too- slightly crumpled. Her hair is a tousled halo around her head.

‘Is that me?’

She stabs her finger at the tiny bundle in her Mum’s arms and Catalina nods.

‘It’s you. I think I actually took this picture- or maybe I was just in the room. No, that’s right, it was me because your Daddy couldn’t get the camera to work.’

‘Dad couldn’t ever get the video recorder to work. Mum always had to do it for him.’

‘That sounds like Thomas.’

Mum is looking down at her baby-self, smiling tiredly. She doesn’t seem to even know that the camera is pointed at her at all.

‘How old was I?’

‘Not very old- maybe a couple of weeks. Still very tiny.’

‘I’m like a doll.’

‘That was what everyone said- like a little doll.’ Catalina laughs. ‘Everyone said how good and sweet and quiet you looked- until you cried, and then they would be surprised someone so small could be that loud. Your Mum said you were practising for karaoke.’

‘What’s karaoke?’

‘Singing, with a microphone. Your Mum and I used to do it a lot when we were at university. Maria was much better at it than I was though.’

‘Mum used to sing all the time. She’d sing me songs instead of telling me stories at bedtime sometimes.’

‘She used to say how all that karaoke practise would be handy when she had children. Sometimes, we just sang in the streets, when we were coming home from parties- the streets would be all quiet and your Mum would say it was like a stage and we’d sing as we walked home, Especially if it was cold. Once we passed by some boys, and they started howling-’

‘Why?’

‘Oh they were just being silly, they didn’t like our singing much- or my singing anyway.’

‘Were you sad?’

‘I didn’t really have time to be sad honestly mija because before they’d even finished, your Mum threw her cone of chips at them, grabbed my hand and we ran all the way home so they couldn’t catch us- we were laughing so hard i nearly fell off my high heels!’

‘When we were in Nursery, someone made fun of Anne and I threw my paintbrush at them.’

‘There you are. Like mother, like daughter. You’re brave like her.’

‘Was Dad brave?’

‘I think so. Maybe a bit different to your Mum though- he was brave because he did what he wanted to do and he didn’t let anyone tell him different. You know he was reading History of Art at University?’

She nods.

‘Lots of people thought that it wasn’t….the sort of thing a man should be doing. His parents wanted him to become a doctor or a lawyer- they thought he was wasting his time, but he stuck it out, worked so hard to put himself through the course- and he never got angry. Never, in all the time that I knew him, did I ever see him get cross or shout or anything at all. He just kept on doing what he wanted.’

‘Dad liked going to art galleries.’

‘Yes.’

‘I liked them too sometimes. Sometimes I got bored.’ It makes her feel bad to admit this, like a better daughter would have listened attentively and never ever whined or had to be bribed with the promise of sweets from the museum gift shop.

When she tells Catalina this though, she just laughs. ‘Oh that sounds just like Maria- she liked going to the galleries with him, up to a point….but she lost patience much more quickly than he did.’

‘Sometimes he’d make up stories about the people in the pictures for me.I used to want to do it too but i could never think of anything.’

‘Maybe you were just a bit too young for the Muses, mija.’

‘Maybe. Do you think I’d be better at it now?’

‘I think after your success as ghost story in chief last night, you’d be wonderful at it.’

She brightens then stops. ‘Except Dad isn’t here to take me to the gallery any more.’

Catalina squeezes her hand. ‘I know mija. But if you’d like, I could take you to the gallery.’

‘Can we?’

‘Of course.’

‘Can we be like proper grown ups? I won’t get bored or ask for sweets or anything.’

‘If you like, mija. Although-’ Catalina lowers her voice. ‘I can’t promise  _ I  _ won’t want to get some sweets. But I’ll try not to whine  _ too m _ uch….’

*

There are pictures of her parents going out and pictures of them at home, pictures of them in parks and pictures of them in restaurants. There are older, faded photos, some bearing the imprints of sticky rings from long ago drinks; there are small square white edged pictures from photos booths.

And there are photos of Catalina too: arms linked with her Mum, the way that she and Anne do sometimes. They’re smiling in nearly all of them.

‘You used to have different hair!’

Catalina strokes the long, rope-like braids of her past-self fondly. ‘Oh it was such a wrench when I cut off my dreads. But my Madre said I would find it harder trying to find work with them and she was right. Sadly.’

‘Why was it harder?’

‘Because some people have very silly ideas about what a professional hair style is, mija.’

‘That doesn't make any sense. Your hair doesn't change how you work.’

‘Exactly mija. Exactly.’

She’d ask more but Catalina is looking sad so she doesn’t. Instead she says ‘I like them. You look pretty.’

‘Thank you, mi vida. I rather liked them too.’

‘Did Mum ever have her hair like that?’

‘I don’t think so. If she did, it was before I knew her.’

‘Oh. Can I have my hair like that?’

‘If you want it. But you have to think carefully about it mija because it’s a hairstyle you can’t change. If you decide you want it different, it’s not as easy as just brushing it out.’

‘Oh.’ 

‘But if you do decide that’s what you want, then yes, you can.’

‘Really?’

‘It’s your hair not mine, mija.’

‘What if I did it and didn’t like it?’

‘Well, then you’d know not to do your hair like that again.’

It’s interesting, when Catalina puts it like that. Because her hair is her own, of course it is- but it doesn’t always feel like it, when it’s something that grown ups seem to be forever fussing over- washing it and brushing or not brushing it, reminding her to tie it back or put it down.

‘Oh I’d forgotten this one!’

Catalina holds out another picture: a closeup of her own face, and of Cathy’s- very small and squishy and young looking- pressed close to it, with her eyes squeezed shut. There’s a little puff of brown fur and a tiny paw at the edge of the photo that looks oddly familiar-

‘Tarkar!’

‘Yes, in his prime. And me in mine. I don’t think he was even Tarkar then, I don’t think you’d had him very long-’

‘Mum and Dad said he was the first toy they bought for me after I was born.’

‘That’s right. They took it very seriously.’

Cathay nods- she knows this story. ‘They couldn’t agree on what to get me because there were so many and they didn’t want to get me one I didn’t like.’

‘Well, it was a very important decision.’

‘Mum wanted to get a bear and Dad said that was a waste because there were so many more options, and then he wanted to get me an octopus but Mum said it was too scary-’

‘Yes, I remember how she screamed when we’d go to the beach together- if anything touched her legs while she was swimming, she was always sure it was a giant squid or a shark…’

‘Mum said you laughed once and then something touched YOUR leg and you screamed even louder-’

Catalina shakes her head, laughing. ‘Oh I should have known she’d have told you the whole story….in my defence, mija, it was a very tentacle-y bit of seaweed…’

Cathay doesn’t understand all the fuss- she always HOPES that she’ll get to see a squid or an octopus or even a little shark when she’s swimming in the sea. She’s seen Finding Nemo, she knows sharks aren’t all scary, and she’s a good swimmer- she knows she could probably get away if she needed to make a quick escape.

‘Dad taught me to swim in the sea. On holiday when I was five. He said the salt water made us more floaty.’

‘He was right. That sounds like a nice holiday, mija.’

‘It was. Mum didn’t come in but she waved to us. She made Tarkar wave too. She looked after the picnic things. Dad said I could have a candyfloss for every time that I went under and didn’t cry.’

Catalina smiles. ‘I remember talking to you on the telephone when you came back and you telling me you’d learned to swim. I don’t think you mentioned the candyfloss though.’

‘I started going under on purpose and Mum said that Dad was silly to promise something like that and that I could have one candyfloss and that would cover all the times.’ She still feels mildly resentful at how the bargain had changed last minute. ‘I was up to six candyflosses but I only got one. But Dad let me have a bit of his as well as mine because he said I’d been brave enough to have earned more than one candyfloss.’

‘Your Daddy was always generous like that.’ Catalina shuffles photos absently like they’re playing cards. ‘He’d give people the shirt off his back if they asked.’

‘Is that why you told Mum to marry him?’

Catalina looks amused. ‘What did she tell you mija?’

‘She said that she called you on the phone after they met each other and you told her to marry him so she did. She’d say it was all down to you and laugh, and Dad would always say it was lucky for him.’ She remembers it because she’s heard it so many times- she remembers, too, being surprised when Anne said she had no idea how her Mummy and Daddy had met, that she’d never been told. There’s more to the story too though, bits that Mum and Dad didn’t used to say in public, that she alone was allowed to hear.

‘She said that Dad made her a cup of tea at his flat and that he put in the milk first like she did and that she called you and told you and you said she should marry him because he was the only other person in the world apart from her who did it.’

‘I stand by it, mija. It is very odd to put in the milk first and Maria deserved to know. I think she mostly did it to annoy me and then it became a habit.’

She nods. ‘Yes.’

‘What do you mean, yes?’

She isn’t sure what Catalina is confused about. ‘Mummy said that one day, she put in the milk first and you kept saying it was weird so she kept doing it because you got really annoyed, and then she couldn’t stop.’

Catalina’s eyes are wide with disbelief. ‘That little liar- she told me she liked it better that way!’

Cathay starts to giggle and shakes her head. ‘No. She just told you she did.’

‘You think you know someone…’ Catalina shakes her head, smiling. ‘Well I’m glad she told you the truth, mija. And I’m glad that me being bothered by it helped her and your Daddy to get to know one another

‘Mum said that when she told you she was getting married, you said  _ I told you so _ .’

‘I did! And I was right…’ Catalina smiles but it’s a sad smile too. ‘I never in my life saw two people as well suited to each other as Maria and Thomas- I never thought I’d ever have liked one of Maria’s boyfriends either, I used to make fun of them mercilessly in the past- _ Not that that’s a nice thing to do, mija- _ ’ She adds hurriedly.

She’s heard this too. ‘Mum said you used to not like any of them but then you did like Dad and that was how she knew he was special.’

Catalina looks very sad all of a sudden and her eyes are shiny. ‘He was. And your mother- oh, she was the best person I ever knew, the very, very best-’ Catalina presses her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, mija-’

It makes her feel funny to hear Catalina talk about her Mum like that- it’s nice but it’s sad too because it reminds her that Mum wasn’t just Mum, Mum was also someone who Catalina misses in a whole different way. It makes her feel a bit uncomfortable to see Catalina cry too, because she’s not used to seeing grown ups cry- but she knows to say all the things that Catalina says to her when  _ she _ cries.

‘It’s ok to cry. You will feel better. Everything will be alright.’ She doesn’t think she has forgotten anything. She even gets up and fetches a glass of water from the kitchen like Catalina does for her, and doesn’t spill even a drop.

Catalina looks surprised when she brings it back- she’s dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

‘Oh querida, thank you so much- you are such a thoughtful girl.’ She takes a long sip and then puts it down. ‘I’m sorry mija, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m alright now.’

‘I wasn’t scared.’ It’s true- she knows what it feels like to be scared and although she doesn’t enjoy seeing Catalina upset, it didn’t frighten her.

‘Ok.’ Catalina takes another drink. ‘You know, you are so very much like Maria. And Thomas. You have all of their best qualities.’ She’s just wondering how she feels about that- about being a mix of Mum and Dad, whether it’s a good thing because she’s like them, or a bad thing because if she’s them, then does that mean she isn’t herself?- when Catalina adds ‘Of course, some of you is neither. Some of you is just you.’

They sit and Catalina sips her water, and she leans against Catalina with her head on her shoulder.

She doesn’t pick up any more of the photos- she thinks she’s had enough, for now at least.

‘I think I want to stop now.’

Catalina’s voice is nearly entirely back to normal now. ‘That’s alright. I’ll leave the box out here, on the bookshelf, and then you can look through them whenever you like. You can look at them on your own too, you don’t have to wait til I’m with you unless you want to.’

‘Really?’

That’s a surprise- Catalina is usually quite clear about which of her things Cathy is welcome to use or touch whenever she wants, and which she is meant to leave alone, and usually, anything private falls into the second category, and these photos definitely seem like they’d be private….but Catalina nods. 

‘They’re your parents, mija, Just be careful with the pictures, alright?’

‘Ok.’

‘Good girl.’ Catalina finishes her water and then stretches. ‘You know, I’ve gotten stiff from sitting on the floor like this. Shall we get up and do something else for a bit?’

That sounds like a good idea. ‘Will you read me my library book- but make it so there’s a cat like you did before?’

Catalina nods. ‘I think I could do that, yes.’

‘Will you make it interesting like last time?’

‘Tell you what-’ Catalina gets to her feet, shaking the pins and needles from her feet. ‘I’ll do my best and you can tell me if I managed it. Ok?’

‘Ok.’

*

An hour later, Catalina closes  _ Five Have A Mystery To Solve _ and looks at Cathy.

‘What’s the verdict mija? Did I do alright?’

Cathy gives her a hug- it’s a bit hard because she’s curled up Catalina’s lap again and there isn’t much room to move but she manages it.

‘You did really good. Especially the bits with Timmy the Cat.’

Catalina looks very, very pleased.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I promise I haven't given up, I was just on a break- but I do have plans for future chapters, never fear!
> 
> Thank you all so so much for your lovely feedback thus far- I do hope you like this chapter! As always, please let me know what you think!

Anne calls in the middle of the evening, right before Catalina’s Castle can take her Knight.

(She does like learning chess. 

Mostly.

It makes her brain ache sometimes too, but then every time she thinks she wants to give it up forever, she thinks about how Catalina very, very nearly lost that time and how exciting it was to come so close, and it’s enough to make her want to try again.

It’s this- more than Catalina telling her about how good it is for her brain- that keeps her going.

It also helps that Catalina is learning how to play too, and sometimes even has to quickly do a google search to remind her how the pieces move- which is very funny because even Cathy knows that Knights move in an L shape and that a Castle is the same thing as a Rook.

As well as not always remembering exactly how all the pieces move, Catalina’s also very open to suggestions on how to make the game more interesting. (Cathy wonders sometimes if it makes HER brain ache too, even though she’s a grown up.)

This why the Kings and Queens have little tiny crowns made out of silver foil from a KitKat, and the Pawns all have smiley faces drawn on them in silver Sharpie, and the horse’s belonging to the Knights nibble on little bundles of dry grass- gathered from the curb outside- when they’re back in their cardboard stable box after Catalina and Cathy are done using them.

She even agreed- during a game that was going on and on and ON- that maybe Cathy was right and that it WAS very unfair that Knights weren’t as important as Queens and that Queens weren’t as important as Kings and that maybe, given a chance, the two Queens might want to be friends rather than enemies.

Cathy isn’t quite sure who won that game, since it ended in the two queens running away together to make a new life for themselves in the jungle of a potted plant- until she wanted to play another game and the Queens had to be coaxed back to their old roles and given a quick wash in the sink….but she thinks it maybe counts as a draw.

She’s sure that one day she’ll beat Catalina properly though- and Catalina agrees and says that she is Watching Her Back whenever Cathy makes a clever move….but she has a very strong suspicion she  _ won’t _ be winning THIS game, which is why she doesn’t mind a bit when Catalina gets up to answer the telephone.

She knows from how Catalina says Hello that she’s talking to Jane and not Anne’s Mum (she sounds friendly and smiley rather than tired and maybe a tiny bit irritated) and that’s funny because Anne doesn’t often stay with Jane on Sunday nights and besides, Anne had complained at the sleepover that she’d already asked to go to Jane’s house and Anne’s Mum had said NO very crossly.

Apparently there had been some disagreement over Kitty wanting to wrap the rainbow laces for Anne’s new heelies by herself, when Jane’s Mum had already SAID that she wanted all the presents in the SAME PAPER, PLEASE because anything else would Spoil The Look and that besides, of course Kitty couldn’t wrap Anne’s present, she’d only make a mess of it, like she made a mess of everything.

She’d been half way through declaring that naughty little girls who whined and complained wouldn’t get any birthday cake AND might very well see the rainbow laces taken back to the shop when Kitty had started crying.

She had been very annoyed when Jane managed to accidentally forget to send the rainbow laces to be professionally wrapped like she’d been told to, and she’d scowled when Jane had instead dropped them off- with Kitty’s rather shaky wrapping skills very much in evidence.

The whole thing had led to a tight lipped phonecall saying that since Jane was clearly incapable of respecting her boundaries and following a very simple request, it was probably best if Anne didn’t see her for a while (although she would of course allow Jane to take Kitty for the sleepover seeing as she’d promised Anne specially). 

This was funny- but funny peculiar, not ha ha funny, because Anne hadn’t even been the one to bring up Kitty not being at the party in the first place.

Anne had been sad, all through her party, at the idea of not seeing Jane for who knows how long- even though she’d looked happy.

Cathy knows that when Anne is very, very sad, she makes herself louder and bouncier, like she’s trying to drown out the sadness in her head, and while it fools lots of grown ups into thinking it means that nothing is wrong at all, they only think that because they don’t know Anne like she does….but now Anne sounds properly happy on the phone, bubbling over with the story of her Photoshoot, which she sounds much more excited about now than she had that morning.

It turns out that Anna’s Mum had picked up Anna just after the Photographer had begun setting up and that Anna’s Mum had been VERY confused about how photoshoots work and had started saying silly things about how wasn’t Anne a lucky girl to have two lovely birthday cakes and all these presents, and Anne’s Mum’s lips had gone VERY tight when Anna had to explain- having being disabused of her own incorrect ideas by Anne’s Mum a quarter hour earlier- that no, it wasn’t really a cake they got to eat, just a pretend one.

And no, all the presents weren’t presents, they were just boxes wrapped up to look like presents.

And yes, Anne was going to play Party Games with the other girls when they got there, but that they were only going to play boring baby Party Games like Pass The Parcel and that anyway, they weren’t even going to play them properly, they were just going to in a circle to LOOK like they were playing so that the picture would look good-

Anne’s Mum had cut her off a bit sharply at that point, and Anna’s Mum had frowned and then she’d given Anne a big hug and thanked her for making Anna’s time at her new school so lovely and that the whole family was so pleased that Anna had such nice new friends like Anne and Cathy and that they must both come to play whenever they liked, and that Anne’s Mum must be so proud of having such a kind, thoughtful girl and that she and Anna’s Vati had worried themselves sick over how Anna would get on in a new school half way through the term.

Anna’s Mum had apparently looked a bit confused and not really said whether she was proud or not- but it’s still nice, Cathy thinks, because it’s usually her who gets called Good and Thoughtful and Anne who gets called Boisterous and A Handful, and that’s really a bit unfair because Anne IS very good and nice and kind and everything else, just in a slightly different way to the way that gets you Gold Stars and pats on the head and Certificate of the Week.

Anne tells her about the little-girls-who-aren’t-her-friends coming and how some of them she knew and some of them she didn’t.

‘-and Patience brought her little sister because her Mummy said that the Au Pair had a day off, and Mum got annoyed and said we weren’t babysitting services, but only after they’d gone. When they were there, Mum said-’ Anne put on a Voice. ‘Oh how loooooovely!’ 

Cathy giggles. She knows it’s not nice to laugh at people for how they talk- she’d never, ever do it normally, and she even got made to stand in the corner at After School Club once for accidentally-on-purpose spilling her juice into the schoolbag of a boy who was being nasty about Bessie’s accent, but this is different.

(Bessie is in a different class to Cathy and at the time, she didn’t even know her name, just that the big boy was being nasty by repeating everything she said in a very exaggerated voice that didn’t really sound anything like Bessie’s own accent at all. 

Then one day she pointed her out on the playground and Anna said that she knew her a little bit because they both went to extra English lessons while everyone else was doing Art and that she leant her a rubber once and that she was nice and very good at doing quick biro tattoos when the teacher wasn’t looking. 

Cathy thinks maybe she should suggest that they ask Bessie if she wants to play at lunchtime- because even if she IS in the year above and therefore One of the Big Girls, having to stand in the corner facing the wall just because you broke a nasty boys Nintendo DS with orange squash is probably worth a biro tattoo or three.)

She knows it’s not nice to laugh at how someone talks- but it’s VERY hard not to laugh at how Anne’s Mum’s voice goes sometimes, and she’s isn’t sure it counts as nasty because it’s not even a voice Anne’s Mum can’t help, it’s a voice she does on purpose when she’s trying to sound like she’s happy about something when she isn’t and there are other people listening that she wants to impress.

They spend a couple of minutes trying to out-do each other with the most exaggerated ‘Oh How Lovely!!!’ they can manage, until Catalina gives her a Look and she hears Jane say ‘Anne-’ on the other end, and they subside, still giggling.

‘Did she end up being in the photos?’

‘No, Mummy said there wasn’t space and maybe she and Kitty could just play together quietly instead.’ Cathy can tell from Anne’s tone that she sort of wishes that SHE had been allowed to go and play instead of taking photos.

‘Oh.’

‘She wouldn’t let me wear my new shoes for the pictures!’ Anne sounds very aggrieved. ‘She said I was being naughty on purpose but I WASN'T, she told me to put on my best shoes and they ARE my best shoes. But she meant my boring shiny ones instead.’ Anne huffs into the phone. ‘They don’t even have wheels-!’

‘Was taking the photos fun?’

Anne starts giggling again. ‘It was really boring- Ingrid and Harriet just kept on showing off their new dresses to each other like always and Blessing started going on about how she had a bigger pretend cake for her birthday, and the photographer talked to us like we were babies-’

Cathy wrinkles her nose. ‘That doesn’t sound fun-’

‘Yes but you know how Patience’s Mummy sent her sister?’

‘Yes.’

‘So Grace- that’s the sister- and Kitty were meant to play together while we did the photo bit and Mummy made them go to the playroom so they wouldn’t be in the way and then just as the Photo man was trying to make me hold hands with Ingrid for the stupid picture, there was this SCREAMING from upstairs and everyone ran up to see what was happening and -’ Anne gulps an excited breah. ‘There was BLOOD EVERYWHERE!’

Cathy gasps. She isn’t sure if this is meant to be a good thing or a bad thing. 

She’d usually think it would be a bad thing except Anne sounds excited rather than sad and surely she wouldn’t be happy for anything really bad had happened to Kitty, because for all that Kitty annoys her sometimes (especially when she plays with Anne’s special grown up toys or takes up all of Jane’s attention or tells tales to Mary on her), she knows that Anne does really like having Kitty to play with and misses her when she isn’t there. 

After all, it’s hardly worth having grown up special toys if there’s no one to admire them, and games like Vampire Barbie and Jungle Explorer are hard to play on your own and even things like watching cartoons is less fun when you don’t have someone there to act out the best bits with.

(Not that she really minds- she quite likes how peaceful Catalina’s flat is with just them, and she never got lonely back home with Mum and dad….but she also knows she might feel differently, if she was Anne, with a Mum who snaps and a Dad who shouts into his phone and Mary always busy with Baby Catherine and no Catalina to talk to or tell her stories or give her cuddles. 

She’s actually really, really very grateful she isn’t Anne sometimes, when she really thinks about it.) 

‘Blood!?’

Catalina sits up very straight in her chair and looks at Cathy quickly, her newspaper dropping onto the floor and her eyes going all wide and anxious.

‘Yes! Everywhere! Kitty bit Grace’s FINGER off!’

‘Oh!’ Cathy can’t believe it- has Kitty really been hiding her wild animalistic side all this time, while just pretending to be scared of things like the Ocado man and the sound of vacuuming?

(Is she going to have to be careful when she goes over to play in case Kitty takes a fancy to HER fingers?)

As she’s wondering, she hears Jane say ‘Anne!’ again in a warning voice, and Anne comes off the phone for a minute and when she comes back, she’s a bit more subdued.

‘Did she really bite it off? For honest true and not lying? Cross your heart?’

Anne hesitates. ‘Well...she COULD have done. That’s what Mummy kept saying- she said Kitty was being just like a wild animal!’

‘But did she?’

‘Nooooo….’ Anne admits reluctantly. ‘Maybe not alllll the way off-’

Cathy realises she’d better check something. ‘And was there really blood everywhere?’

‘Yes!’ Anne sounds insulted. ‘Everywhere!’ She pauses. ‘Well, on her finger anyway. I think. Probably. I couldn’t really see, she kept fussing and whining and everyone was in the way-’

(Cathy decides not to point out that being Anne’s best friend since Nursery means that she has witnessed plenty of scraped knees, trapped fingers and trodden-on toes and is Anne really in any position to judge anyone for not being stoic in the face of pain when Cathy saw how she reacted when her wobbly tooth came out in Assembly?)

‘But she got BITTEN Anne!’

‘Yeah but. Only by Kitty. Kitty isn’t scary.’

This is true. (At least, she thinks it is.)

‘Why did Kitty bite her anyway?’ she wants to know. (Honestly, biting isn’t a very Kittyish thing, as far as she’s concerned.)

‘Oh-’ Anne is obviously less interested in the hows and whys than Cathy is. ‘They were playing Cats- Grace likes cats too- and she kept making her cat talk and Kitty kept saying that cats couldn’t talk and then Grace snatched Pink Kitty and said that she was too stupid to know how to talk-’ 

Anne starts giggling again. ‘And so Kitty bit her. Mum was really embarrassed because she wanted to keep going with the photos but the photographer kept stopping because Grace was making such a fuss and asking if she was sure she was ok and shouldn’t someone get a plaster.’

Cathy can believe this. Anne’s Mum is a big believer in seeing things through to the end, which is why Anne had to keep going back to ballet class, even though she hated it, until the teacher politely suggested that maybe ballet just  _ wasn’t for Anne. _

‘He got some sweets out of her pocket and gave one to Grace to make her stop crying. And Patsy.’

‘Who’s Patsy?’

‘Patience. I talked to her because it was our sisters fighting. She’s not that bad actually.’

‘Didn’t she mind that Kitty bit her sister?’

‘I don’t think so. I don’t think she really wanted Grace to come anyway- she said she gets tired of having to look after her all the time. Anyway, Grace scratched all down her face so they’re even now.’

‘Are they both ok?’

‘I think so. Grace stopped crying when she got a sweet. Kitty didn’t but that was more because Mum said she didn’t deserve one.’ 

Anne sounds a bit put out.

‘All the other children got a sweet too. But I didn’t get one even though it was meant to be my birthday. And then everyone went home. And Mum shouted at Kitty. And Kitty cried again and said she wanted to go back to Jane’s and then she ran away and hid under my bed and wouldn’t come out, even when I tried to pull her.’

‘Was she ok?’

‘Mary said she was going to call Jane because she was worried, but then Mummy called her first. She said we were both absolutely impossible and she was sick of the pair of us and-’ Anne’s voice, which had begun quite normal and cheerful and happy actually trails off a bit, and Cathy can understand why. 

It can’t be nice to hear your Mum say things like that to you, especially near your birthday.

‘Anyway, Jane came to get us and now we’re here instead!’ Anne perks up again. ‘And we’re going to have my birthday cake tonight rather than next week, and she said I could pick any colour I wanted for the icing!’

‘What did you pick?’

‘Green, obviously.’ Anne pauses. ‘Kitty doesn’t get to have any til tomorrow because she’s in trouble.’

‘For biting?’ Cathy feels a bit sorry for her. Biting is bad but Jane’s cakes are really, really nice, even though they’re not special cakes in lots of layers.

(They don’t have writing on them either. But sometimes tells Cathy that if they did, she’d definitely write Anne’s name with an E.)

‘Uh-huh.’ Anne lowers her voice. ‘And she said that if Kitty bit Grace because she couldn’t play nicely with Pink Kitty, then she wasn’t going to be allowed to have Pink Kitty for a while.’

‘Really?’

‘Yep. For ages. For YEARS!’ Anne pauses. ‘Right up until bedtime anyway.’

‘Oh!’ Cathy is privately impressed by Jane- taking Pink Kitty away from Kitty just as she’s started to use her TEETH seems very brave.

‘I’m not allowed to tease her about it though because that’s mean and it won’t help her remember to not do it again.’ (It sounds oddly like Jane talking but with Anne’s voice.) Anne breaks off suddenly. ‘You’re so lucky Cathy, Catalina never gets cross with you.’

‘She does-’

It’s not really true though, she knows it even as she says it.

She hasn’t really seen Catalina get cross much at all- rather than shouty cross (like Anne’s Mum), Catalina just gets very, very calm and very, very firm and when Catalina has That Look, Cathy knows she can argue until she’s blue in the face- or maybe even just a bit pink- and she’ll still never ever, win.

(She does explain things though. She NEVER says ‘Because I say so’.)

Having Catalina tell her she isn’t allowed to do things- or that she has to do things, even if she doesn’t want to- felt very strange at the beginning. Not just for her- Catalina looked a bit surprised at herself the first time she told Cathy that she wouldn’t be allowed to watch television if she didn’t settle down to do her homework properly, like it she wasn’t used to hearing things like that come out of her own mouth.

It’s easier now than it was though, even if Catalina is annoyingly stubborn- even when Cathy timed herself perfectly so that she was coming into the living room at the start of Coronation Street (which she knows Catalina really likes), Catalina still turned off the tv the moment she came in.

‘Nice try mija, but no.’

She hadn’t seemed cross when she said it though, and she’d still let her take a turn helping to peel and chop and stir the dinner and kissed her goodnight like normal.

She wonders if it’s a bad thing that she hasn’t seen Catalina properly cross yet.

(She wonders what Catalina Properly Cross would look like.)

‘She does get cross-’

(She says it a bit quieter- she doesn’t really want Catalina to think she’s complaining about to Anne. But Catalina is very much engrossed in a crossword so that’s ok.)

‘She doesn’t, not properly!’ Anne doesn’t say it like it’s a good or even a bad thing, just as a statement of fact, something she isn’t really all that interested in but observed anyway. 

‘Anyway, really why I’m calling is because the cake is nearly ready and Jane said I could call and ask if you want to sing happy birthday. You can share the wish if you want too. Since I already had one.’

‘Yes please!’ Cathy’s never heard of birthday wishes working by proxy like this before, let alone sharing a wish, but there’s no way she’s going to turn down a wish so freely offered, even a half of one. ‘How do we do it?’

‘I’ll tell you as I’m about to blow the candles out and we can wish together-’

Catalina joins Cathy to sing happy birthday down the phone to Anne and then gives Cathy back the phone so she can wish at the same time as Anne.

Anne asks what she’s wished for while Jane is relighting a candle for Kitty to blow out too.

‘I can’t tell you! Or it won’t come true-’

‘Oh-’ Anne sounds dismissive. ‘That’s not true-’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘Nope. I wished for a lizard that can change colour-’ She breaks off. ‘I need to eat my cake now- Jane says we can bring you some at school tomorrow if you want.’

‘Yes! Yes please!’

‘Ok, see you at school-’

Cathy’s still saying goodbye when the phone goes dead but she doesn’t really mind since there’s birthday cake to be had.

‘Did Anne end up having a nice birthday?’ Catalina asks, putting the paper down and stretching.

‘Uh huh. Kitty bit someone’s finger off-’

‘Really mija?’ Catalina raises a disbelieving eyebrow and Cathy blushes. 

‘Nearly.’

‘Hm.’

(She can’t understand why grownups are so  _ distrustful _ of everything _ - _ )

‘Bedtime in half an hour querida.’

‘Ok.’

It’s what she always says- and suddenly she thinks back to what Anne mentioned earlier.

_ ‘Catalina never gets cross with you.’ _

It occurs to her, not for the first time, that she really hasn’t seen Catalina properly cross yet. She’s thought she might a few times- but it’s never actually happened.

She wonders for a moment, just out of curiosity, what would happen if she said ‘No’ rather than ‘Yes’- and kept saying no, kept pushing past the point of sense or reason?

She isn’t sure.

She isn't sure if she wants to know or not.

Catalina smiles at her as she goes into the kitchen and she smiles back.

‘Ok mija?’

‘Yes.’

(It isn’t really a lie.)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically I wanted to explore a couple of things: firstly, grief is not linnear. Secondly, memories and coping mechanism that make you feel better one day can make you feel much worse later- which doesn't make them bad in themselves but makes for quite an up and down journey of bereavement.
> 
> Also- Catalina is a lovely, if slightly overwhelmed godmother. It's ok, Cathy will appreciate her eventually.

The weekend is good, but things start to go wrong almost immediately after- Monday morning, or maybe even Sunday night.

She goes to sleep, after another chapter of Little Women, thinking about tarlatan dresses and what corsets must feel like, but she ends up dreaming about much scarier things- little attic girls with sewn up mouths scratching on the underside of her mattress and rooms full of cobwebby birthday cake and running through an empty art gallery after the tips of her parent’s coats that keep disappearing round corners no matter how fast she chases after them-

It’s a muddled, unsettling sort of dream- and then the day starts out in the worst-ever possible way because when she wakes up, her sheets and pajamas are cold and wet and sticking to her bare skin, and she’s so horrified that she actually sort of wants to shrivel up and die right where she is, just disappear from existence entirely.

(If she had to choose, she thinks she’d take the little attic girl, sewn up-mouth and all, over  _ this _ .)

Thankfully, she’s spared Catalina having to find out (she thinks then, she really would die of embarrassment) because when she comes out of the shower, Catalina doesn’t even think of ask why she’s showering in the morning when she had a bath the night before- she just says that she’s going to put on a load of laundry before work to try and get on top of the housework and can Cathy put her own things in?

She can.

It’s a relief, and actually a very, very lucky coincidence because Catalina never usually does laundry in the morning ever, even though the laundry makes things into even more of a rush.

It turns out that Catalina’s alarm didn’t go off on time so they’re running a bit behind.

Still, even though she’s had longer in bed than normal, she’s tired.

Catalina looks unusually ruffled too, and she looks oddly concerned and earnest when she asks Cathy if she’s alright.

‘I’m fine.’ She tries to look like she means it.

‘Are you sure, mija? You know you can tell me anything.’

She nods as convincingly as she can and Catalina doesn’t look entirely convinced but she stops asking anyway.

Now she’s on the phone, trying to explain to her boss why she can’t come in early, while she makes coffee and stuffs files into a bag.

‘-I understand but….. I know-.....Look, I’m just having a bit of a stressful morning, but I’ll make it up, I can just work through lunch again…..Yes, no I do understand, truly-.... What’s that?’ Catalina eventually slams the fridge, looking annoyed. ‘No, she CAN’T take herself to school James, she’s SEVEN…. No, I don’t care what your kids were doing at that age-’

She keeps arguing and Cathy stirs her cereal round a little too vigorously in irritation that Catalina is apparently telling everyone she’s too much of a baby to take herself to school.

(She bets she could really. She’d probably be fine, even if she had to get a bus by herself like the really big children do. Not that Catalina will listen.

‘I don’t think you’d like it, mija.’

‘I  _ would. _ ’

‘But the bus makes you feel carsick, I thought.’

‘Only sometimes. And it’s different when you’re grownup, grownups don’t get carsick.’

‘I wish you’d told that to Maria when I got my first car.’ Catalina chuckles, momentarily distracted. ‘My backseat was never the same- I told her at the time she wouldn’t like tequila-’

‘What?’ 

Cathy is confused; Catalina looks like Kitty when she’s caught sneaking cubes of sugar from the bowl.

‘Nothing, mija. But you still can’t go to school by yourself.’

Catalina is VERY unfair sometimes.)

Catalina sighs at the puddle of milk by her bowl and drops Cathy’s school bag by her chair.

‘Please be careful mija, we’re late as it is-’

This feels unfair when it’s Catalina who woke her up late in the first place and she mumbles something to this effect under her breath while spooning up the last of her Shreddies.

‘WHAT was that?’

She knows it isn’t good when Catalina speaks sharply like that, and doubly so that she isn’t even calling her mija- so she doesn’t repeat it and shrugs instead. Still. It ISN’T her fault they’re late.

Catalina doesn’t press it, but she frowns and whisks away Cathy’s bowl, so she doesn’t even get to drink the milk she’d been saving til last.

‘Your dinner money is due today-’ Catalina’s phone starts ringing again, sounding more insistent and angry with each vibration. ‘I have to get this- can you go and get the cheque and put it in your school bag? It’s on the table in the hall- Hello?’

Cathy’s so annoyed about the milk- about the general badness of the day in general- that she doesn’t even answer, just stamps her feet harder than necessary when she goes to put on her school shoes.

‘Cathy, stop that NOW-’

She stops. Reluctantly.

It’s  _ not _ a good beginning.

*

Catalina drops her off in such a hurry she has to run across the playground to join the back of the line before her class goes inside, so it’s not until they’re all in the classroom that Cathy notices that everyone seems to have more bags on them than usual.

Her stomach flips over- of course, it’s Monday.

Swimming day.

School swimming lessons had paled in comparison to Anne’s sleepover- which is why she hasn’t thought about the fact that they’re starting  _ today _ for a while- but now, with everyone else chattering excitedly about how far and how fast they can swim, about whether it’s true the pool they’re going to has a waterslide or a wave machine, about whether it’s true that everyone has to jump into the pool to begin, whether they can swim or not….now it feels like a bit more of a big deal.

Especially when Anne pauses in showing off the fancy green goggles (that her Mum dropped off at Jane’s that morning before school) to ask where her swimming things are.

(The shame of Kitty biting Grace has, it seems, gone over rather better than expected with the other parents, since apparently they all have rather strong feelings about being treated like babysitting services. 

Because of this, Anne and Kitty are no longer in disgrace and can go home- which is a good thing, because Jane has called in a couple of favours to cover her shifts and is running out of people she can ask.)

Having to admit she’s forgotten to bring her swimming things makes Cathy’s tummy feel all tight and anxious-  _ is forgetting swimming things like forgetting homework or is it even worse? Is she going to get into trouble? _ \- and then Anne looks sympathetic and lowers her voice.

‘Did Catalina forget?’

She isn’t really sure whether to say yes or no-  _ did she? Did both of them? _ \- but she nods uncertainly anyway and Anne looks sorry for her because Anne knows all about parents forgetting things for you.

‘If I’d brought my spare bikini, you could have borrowed it-’

‘That’s ok.’

‘I’m sorry you don’t have your stuff. Will you still be allowed to swim?’

She doesn’t answer.

She’s let Anne borrow things too many times to count, she's expressed regret that Anne doesn’t have this or that hundreds of times, and she’s never once felt strange about it…... but she isn’t sure she likes it being the other way around. 

Not one bit.

They’re interrupted, luckily, by the register. And following the register, dinner money collection.

It’s only as the teacher takes out the familiar red plastic folder that she remembers something else- the cheque, still sitting on the hall table.

The teacher looks at her oddly when she has to admit she doesn’t have anything to give her.

‘What happened, Cathy?’

‘I-’ She’s about to say that she forgot it but then it occurs to her that she’s already going to have to admit to not having her swimming things and she really doesn’t want to be in trouble twice today, and maybe she’ll be in less trouble for the swimming things if the teacher feels sorry for her. 

So she opens her eyes a bit wider, trying to look all honest and sad and brave, like one of the poor street children in the storybooks they sometimes read at Christmas.

‘Catalina…..wouldn’t give me any dinner money today.’

It’s not really, really a lie, not exactly. After all, Catalina didn’t give her anything at all. And it was a cheque she was meant to pick up from the hall table, not money. So really, she isn’t lying.

(That’s what she tells herself, anyway.)

The teacher doesn’t question her any further, thank goodness, she just shakes her head and makes a little mark by her name.

‘Alright- you go along and have dinner as normal today.’

‘Yes Miss.’ 

(She’s wondering if maybe she should explain- that really, it was just Catalina forgetting rather than not giving her money on purpose, and actually, Catalina didn’t really forget at all….but she doesn’t quite have the words.)

‘And don’t look so worried-’ The teacher smiles reassuringly at her and pats her shoulder. ‘It’ll all be sorted out.’

Which she takes to mean that she can have the dinner for free today and bring in the cheque tomorrow and no one need be any the wiser about anything.

Which is a relief.

(She’s glad Catalina doesn’t have to find out about her not-lie.)

*

She cheers up a bit as they all get into line for the coach- because Anna brings up the sleepover and the other girls start asking questions and looking jealous and it’s nice to feel special….. But then on the coach, the teacher stops Cathy and Anne squashing onto a double seat with Anna and because Cathy is on the end, she’s the one who gets sent to find a new seat. 

The only one left is next to Stephen Gardener, who picks his nose and fries ants with his pocket magnifying glass at playtime and likes to try to stamp on people's fingers when they drop things under the table. 

This is NOT a good day at all.

They’re only engaging in a little tiny bit of under-the-seat kicking as they negotiate seat boundaries and leg room, but unfortunately, it draws the attention of their teacher (who is looking more ruffled by the minute and doing lots of dark muttering about her own views on school swimming lessons). 

They got told very firmly to stop-this-instant on pain of being left behind at school, and this makes Stephen subside almost at once (with one final secret kick to her ankle) but Cathy wonders if maybe she should carry on because that would be one way at least to avoid having to get into trouble for the missing costume.

(She doesn’t know how Anne manages it all the time- forgetting things is so stressful and horrible that for once she doesn’t even think about how the jerky hot coach is making her feel carsick. She doesn’t EVEN care that Anna and Anne are whispering and giggling together in a very annoying way down the aisle- she just wants to be able to press a big button like on the television remote and fast forward to tomorrow so the stress of dinner money and swimming costumes can be over and done with and everything can go back to normal.)

The class is lining up to go into the changing rooms when a teacher stops her.

‘Where are your things?’

She bites her lip- she doesn’t know this teacher, she’s a special just-for-swimming one and she isn’t sure if she’ll be the sort of teacher who acts like forgetting things is a personal affront to her. She’s wishing she’d said something to her own teacher, because then maybe it would be sorted out like the dinner money thing, but it’s too late now.

‘Did you forget them?’

Before she can say anything, her real teacher comes over, looking harassed and carrying a clipboard. 

She gives a little sigh- obviously noting Cathy’s bagless state- and then draws the swimming-teacher away a couple of steps and starts whispering to her in a way that is apparently very rude when you do it in class but just fine when it’s teachers, even if they’re not even whispering properly and she can still hear bits of what they’re saying.

(At least when she and Anne whisper, they do it properly.)

‘....both parents….quite recent….still settling back in….’

She knows exactly what’s being said, even without hearing all the words, because it’s just a version of the same story that everyone around her seems to be telling one another….but she still doesn’t like it.

It’s also very odd to have something so enormously, earth-shakingly huge trimmed down and stuffed into a few neat potted sentences- as if Mum and Dad dying is just another piece of news, like any other. Her teacher at least is using her Very Serious voice- and the swimming teacher does a little sad face when she hears and shakes her head….but it’s not enough. 

(She doesn’t really know what COULD be enough.)

‘....some problems…. Not sure they’re coping….dinner money….-’

(She hopes very hard that they’re talking about someone else’s dinner money and not hers.)

Eventually, the swimming teacher turns back to her, her eyebrows knit with cloying concern.

‘Did your- ah- your godmother forget your swimming things, dear?’

She nods. It isn’t a lie, really, is it? After all, they BOTh forgot them.

‘Poor little thing.’ She clicks her tongue. ‘We’ll find you something, poppet.’

Stephen sniggers and Cathy wishes they were back on the bus, so she could kick him with plausible deniability. 

(No one will believe her foot slipped all the way over to where Eddie Bonner and Stephen are pinging the straps of their goggles at one another. Worse luck.)

She doesn’t want to be in trouble, but she doesn’t like being a ‘poor little thing’ or a poppet either, and she’s starting to wonder if perhaps it wouldn’t have been better to just be honest about everything all along, when she’s handed a spare swimming costume and all thoughts of everything else go out of her mind.

The spare swimming costume is awful- all bobbly from being washed one time too many, somehow too tight and too baggy and a nasty sickly pink colour. 

The towel smells damply sour.

‘Yuck!’ Anne wrinkles her nose, and Cathy sort of wants to push her over, especially when she sees the big, fluffy towel Anne is taking out of her own bag.

(It looks suspiciously like one of Jane’s Nice towels, which means the towels that are for bath use only and not for swimming and definitely not for picnics, sunbathing or anything interesting at all. She wonders if Jane knows Anne has it.)

‘It smells funny!’

Anne is giggling but Anna isn’t.

‘I don’t think it does.’

She’s grateful for Anna’s help but mostly just annoyed at herself. How COULD she forget swimming day, when she’s been looking forward to it for  _ weeks _ ?

Watching the others get changed into their own pretty costumes makes her feel even worse, and then she feels a stab of anger at Catalina too. 

Why DIDN’T she remember it was swimming day, why DIDN'T she make sure Cathy had her own towel and her blue-and-silver swimming costume, when all the other Mum’s managed to? 

Even if she isn’t a Mum, it’s meant to be her job now- isn’t that what Catalina keeps reminding her, that it’s ok to let her do Mum-things?

(Her own Mum wouldn’t have forgotten. Her own Mum would have remembered- she wouldn’t have forgotten an important thing like swimming day because she’d know how it important it was…

Then she thinks about how her Mum won’t EVER know about swimming day, how she won’t EVER be able to tell her- and how no matter how good she gets at swimming now, it doesn’t matter because Dad won’t be there to be proud of her. 

She tries to think about Mum swimming in the sea and screaming at the seaweed- the story made her feel warm and good and happy on Sunday- but now it just makes her sad.

She’ll never swim with either of her parents again, just hear stories about them swimming with other people.

It feels suddenly so unfair that she has to grub for scraps of other people's memories of them: why can’t she have her own? 

And for that matter, why can’t she just have them- not the memories of them but real, live parents who sort out things like dinner money and swimming costumes for you?)

She’s so busy thinking about this- and so reluctant to put on the horrible suit that it makes her slow getting changed, and she’s the last one out of the girls changing room when the swimming-teacher stops her AGAIN.

‘Don’t you have a bobble, dear?’

‘Why, Miss?’

‘To tie your hair back, of course...Oh well, I can see you don’t-’ She unsnaps an elastic band from around her wrist and before Cathy can dodge, her hair is being scraped back painfully into a much-too-tight ponytail.

‘There! Much better!’

It isn’t much better but she can’t say that. She definitely can’t explain that she always has her hair loose and extra-fluffed out when she goes swimming at home.

(She isn’t a baby anymore, she KNOWS that mother otters fluffing out their babies to keep them buoyant is totally different to her fluffing up her own curls. 

It’s not like she doesn’t know she won’t go under with her hair tied back- she can swim properly now, after all, she’s not a baby afraid to go into the water even with armbands on.

She just LIKES having her hair fluffed out for swimming- but it’s not like she can do anything about it now, especially not when the elastic is so tight it’s making her head sore.)

They all have to line up and jump into the water and then swim to the side to prove they can all swim well enough to be in the big pool- but she somehow ends up a second behind everyone else jumping in, and she’s thinking so much about whether her hair really COULD affect her floatyness that she forgets to hold her nose….and then she’s choking and splashing and her eyes and nose are burning and aching, and she has to grab onto the side cough until someone pulls her out.

It’s embarrassing, once it stops being scary- more so because the minute she can breathe halfway normally again, the just-for-swimming teacher is taking her hand like she’s Kitty’s age and taking her over to a whole other section of the pool.

‘We’ll try you over her, dear-’

For a moment, she’s completely confused- and then she realises.

They think she can’t swim.

She’s been put in the  _ beginners _ group- along with the other children who can’t swim. Some of them don’t even want to get into the water and are clinging to the steps like they think they’re going to drown.

There’s a new swimming teacher with them- she’s smiling and going on about how much  _ fun _ it’s all going to be and how they don’t need to be afraid of the water at all, it won’t hurt them.

They have to line up along the wall, with the water lapping around their tummies, and do silly things like blowing bubbles with their faces in the water.

(Cathy wonders if this is a punishment for not being able to swim.)

She wants to speak up, to explain that she’s been put in the wrong group, that she can swim perfectly well, that it’s all a mistake-

‘Go on, lovie!’

The new swimming teacher is beaming brightly at her.

‘But I’m not- I can-’ She can’t quite figure out how to explain properly- she doesn’t want the new teacher to think she’s being rude, after all- and it’s so frustrating that she can’t just SAY it.

‘There’s nothing to be scared of- be a big brave girl now!’

This stings- she wants to explain that she isn’t a BIT scared, that she learnt to swim without armbands or anything at all, and not in a baby pool like this but in the big, choppy, heaving grey OCEAN, with the waves breaking ever minute, and that even THEN she wasn’t frightened even though she was two years younger….but that makes her think about Dad’s hand in hers as he led her into the water, and his hand under her head as she floated on her back and how proud he was when she did it for the first time, how proud they both were, and him telling her all about the special strong lady swimmers who swam all the way across the channel to France and how she’d decided then and there that she was going to do that too one day, and how he’d nodded seriously and said that he’d cheer her on the whole time from the boat…..and then she has to duck her face down quickly into the water, so quickly that more water goes up her nose and the chlorine stings her eyes.

(It’s ok- it doesn’t count as crying if your face is already wet.)

**

The lesson is boring boring boring but she doesn’t want to try saying anything because she doesn’t want any more memories to come back. She does look over to the other group a few times- they’re splashing and shrieking and swimming, real proper swimming. They’re learning strokes that she’s known for AGES, and it’s so frustrating, knowing that she should be up there among them.

After what feels like hours, they come out of the pool and Anne immediately asks her what happened.

‘Why’d they put you in the other group?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘But you can swim already-’

‘I KNOW I can swim already!’ She wants Anne to appreciate just exactly what she had to put up with so she starts telling her all about how boring and babyish it was, but rather than being properly sympathetic, Anne just gives her a funny look. 

‘Why didn’t you SAY something?’

It’s too hard to explain- the way the words stuck, the way the memories had started tugging at her like an undertow that might pull her off her feet any moment- so she doesn’t

*

They don’t have enough time to dry off properly after swimming- and she doesn’t like feeling the towel on herself more than she has to, so the rest of the day feels damp and chlorinated.

Then Catalina is late picking her up,something she normally wouldn’t mind, except that it rankles when she thinks of the horrible pink swimming costume and how much her hair hurts all scraped back (somehow this is Catalina’s fault too) and how Anne keeps boasting about being in the top five in one of the stupid swimming races.

(It’s so unfair- she can swim better than Anne, she KNOWS she can, and Anne knows it too. But no one else does- even as far as Anna knows, she’s one of the ones who can’t swim.)

‘Hello, mija-’ Catalina is juggling an armful of folders and her handbag as she aims an apologetic smile at the teacher, who nods tightly. 

‘Hello.’ It comes out flat.

(This is not the first time Catalina has been late, but it’s the first time Cathy’s minded so much.)

‘How was your day?’

She shrugs. She doesn’t want to talk about it. (She bets if everyone at Catalina’s work suddenly thought she couldn’t swim, she’d not want to talk about it either.)

‘I’m sorry I’m late mija, I got a call just as I was about to leave work-’ Catalina is smiling but she looks a tiny bit anxious too, like she’s trying to sound happier than she is. ‘I have exciting news! We’re going to have a visit from your social worker tomorrow- nothing to worry about, just so she can check everything is alright and I was thinking we should really-’

Catalina breaks off when the teacher comes over to them.

‘Mrs Trastamara?’

It’s a sign of Catalina being more stressed than usual (even if she’s trying to look calm and normal) that she doesn’t correct the teacher for calling her ‘Mrs’, which is something she’s usually VERY quick to do.

‘Yes?’

‘Could we have a little word before you go? Just quickly?’

‘Of course-’ Catalina looks a bit confused but she smiles anyway. ‘What is it? Is there anything wrong?’

The teacher glances at Cathy and Catalina follows her gaze. ‘I think it’s best if we perhaps talk privately- Cathy, could you wait outside for a moment?’

She nods and slides from her chair obediently.

Outside the classroom, she counts the coat pegs over and over, and wishes on every one that the teacher is just going to talk to Catalina about something normal and safe and boring, like the PTA or the summer fete.

Maybe, after all, everything IS ok- maybe everyone has forgotten everything, including things she may or may not have said about dinner money or the lack of it….

Then the door opens and Catalina comes out.

She does not look happy.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback on scary-angry Catalina would be AMAZING: too angry? Not angry enough? I feel like I hit about the note I wanted but it'd be so good to hear what you all think!
> 
> Also I love that all feedback for the last chapter was various versions of 'Oh fuck no' :3

‘We’re going home. Cathy, get your things.’ Catalina’s voice is tight. She isn’t smiling.

Cathy feels her tummy turn over. This, she knows, is Not Good.

Catalina waits in silence while she gathers up her book bag and coat, and the silence is much worse (probably) than it would be if Catalina was shouting. Cathy wishes she would say something, anything. She wishes she would react in some way, but she doesn’t know how she can possibly demand that.

(How do you ASK to be told off, after all?)

Besides which, her mouth is dry. She doesn’t think it would be very easy to talk right now, even if she did know what to say.

‘Just before you go….’ Her teacher steps forward, looking uncomfortable. ‘I do need to talk to Cathy first. I’m sure you understand- it’s procedure, even when….’ She trails off.

Catalina opens her mouth as if to speak and then closes it and nods tightly. ‘Of course. I’ll wait out here.’

She trails after her teacher back inside the empty classroom, still carrying her book bag.

‘Cathy.’ Her teacher looks at her seriously. ‘I need to ask you something and it is very, very important that you tell me the absolute truth, alright?’

‘Alright.’

‘Good. Now, you won’t be in trouble, as long as you tell the truth-’ (Cathy somehow doubts that) ‘-but you do need to be honest. What happened with your dinner money really? Did your godmother refuse to give you any?’

There’s a really strong urge to nod, to lie again and hope that maybe everything will still work itself out…..but she knows she can’t. Not with Catalina right outside.

Slowly, she shakes her head. Her eyes are burning and she blinks hard.

‘What really happened?’

‘Catalina-’ She sniffs. ‘Catalina told me to get the cheque. And I forgot it.’

‘Then why on earth didn’t you say so?’ The teacher looks puzzled rather than angry and that makes it feel even worse, that really all of this could have been avoided.

‘I thought I’d get into trouble for forgetting it.’ It’s barely a whisper; a tear spills over.

Her teacher nods and hands her a tissue from the box on her desk.

‘Well, you’re in far more trouble for lying than you would have ever been for forgetting your dinner money, I hope you understand that.’

She does, and that’s the whole problem.

*

Catalina is waiting right outside the classroom door when she stumbles out, still teary-eyed, but she doesn’t say a word to Cathy, just apologises to the teacher for the misunderstanding and reassures her it won’t happen again.

‘I’m sure it won’t, Ms Trastamara. I’ll see you tomorrow Cathy.’

She mumbles a goodbye and it nearly chokes her.

They walk to the car- it feels like a VERY long walk- and Catalina STILL doesn’t say anything. It’s only when Cathy feels like she’s going to BURST with all the words that are hanging in the air and not being said that Catalina turns to her while she’s clipping in her seatbelt.

‘So. Would you like to explain to me now why you lied about me not giving you any lunch money? Or shall we wait until we get home?’

Now Cathy sort of wishes they could go back to not talking. Catalina is looking at her so coldly and it’s just so….so different to how she usually looks at her. It almost feels like Catalina is talking to a different person- she isn’t  _ mija _ now, she’s another little girl who wears the same face in order to tell lies and ruin things.

She squirms a bit and looks at her lap, like she might find a really good excuse there.

‘I’m waiting Cathy. Now or later, that’s up to you, but we are going to talk about this and you ARE going to give me an answer.’

She feels about ready to burst into tears again- it’s too much after the horrible day she’s had already had, the bad dream, the wet bed and the rushed start, the anxiety over forgetting the cheque, having to sit away from Anne and Anna on the coach, the horrible tight elastic in her hair, the ugly swimming costume and everyone thinking she can’t really swim when she can, she CAN-

Thinking about it reminds her of just how much of this is actually Catalina’s fault- about how really Catalina is to blame for most, if not maybe all of her horrible day, and how unfair it is that the day is turning into Catalina being cross with her when really, she’s been spending all afternoon thinking about how she’ll get home and be able to tell Catalina about all the indignities she’s had to suffer and how none of them would have happened if Catalina had just remembered her swimming things like she’s meant to.

She’s been consoling herself all afternoon by thinking about Catalina will be very sympathetic and know exactly the right story about when-Maria-and-I-were-at-university to make her feel better (sometimes the stories are about after university, but the at-university ones are the funniest), about how she’ll give her a big hug and maybe some icecream (even though she doesn’t usually get to have icecream on weekdays) and she’ll make everything ok after all.

Like she always does.

But now nothing is being made better, things are just being made  _ worse _ , and it’s SO unfair that instead of saying ‘I’m sorry’ or even trying to come up with a good excuse for her lie (like maybe saying that her teacher must have misheard her), she just scowls right back at Catalina and folds her arms.

‘Well, you DIDN’T give me any dinner money. AND you forgot my swimming things. So there.’

Catalina takes a deep long breath.

‘You know very well that is NOT what happened Cathy- I specifically asked you to pick up the cheque and you forgot. Which is ok and you’re not in trouble for that. But lying like that? Telling your teacher that I WOULDN’T give you your dinner money?’ Catalina’s voice is going up a bit and it sounds especially loud in the small car. ‘I could maybe understand if you just told her that we BOTH forgot but to deliberately lie and say that I WOULDN’T give it to you? What on earth were you thinking?!’

‘But you DIDN’T give it to me!’ She doesn’t quite no why she’s arguing, except that she can’t bear the way the word ‘lie’ keeps on being used in reference to HER. She ISN’T a liar- it’s such an inescapably horrid word- and she so wants to find a loophole, a reason, an excuse so that she can push it away rather than having it stick to her.

Somehow though, it doesn’t sound as much like the excellent response it was in her head- Catalina just looks even angrier.

‘That is NOT the point and you know it! You made it sound like I was…..withholding food from you on purpose! Do you have ANY idea how serious that is?’

She doesn’t quite dare to argue but she also can’t bring herself to say anything that sounds like agreement so she just huffs a bit and crosses her arms tighter.

‘She thought I was PUNISHING you! YOU told her that I was STARVING you!’ 

‘Well, YOU should have remembered it! YOU should have put it in my bag, like Mum always did!’ 

It’s when she mentions her Mum that Catalina’s shoulders suddenly sink and she sighs again, as if the fight is going out of her. ‘I have tried- I try so hard to be a good….a good mother, a good parent, I try every day, every second- do you understand that? There isn’t a  _ moment _ when I’m not worrying now and then for you to go and-’

She sounds sad, so sad, and there’s a little bit of Cathy that feels guilty, so guilty that even crying isn’t enough because really, she never actually thought that Catalina would get in trouble over anything she said, she really didn’t, because it’s not like her teacher can tell of Catalina, is it? Except now she’s wondering if perhaps she DID tell her off, but in a grown up way that sounds much worse….

But that little part of her is only there for a moment before it gets taken over the angry roaring in her head because Catalina called herself her MOTHER, and just hearing her say it even once feels like Catalina is stamping all over her memory of Mum, squashing it down flat and squeezing it out-

‘You’re NOT my Mum! You’re not anything LIKE Mum!’ Now she’s shouting too- she can’t help it, she just knows she has to shout loud enough to drown out any idea that Catalina could replace her Mum ever ever ever. ‘Mum wouldn’t forget my dinner money! Mum wouldn’t forget my swimming things like you did!’

‘I KNOW!’ Catalina’s shout is so loud that it fills up the whole car, and Cathy actually jumps in her seat because she’s never heard Catalina be so loud before. ‘I KNOW I’m not your mother but I am TRYING my BEST-’

‘I DON’T CARE!’

‘Oh I can tell that!’ Catalina gives a very bitter not-nice laugh, that doesn’t sound at all like her. ‘I know you don’t care but I AM trying, so hard and honestly, right now I’m wondering WHY I bother at all when you-’

‘You didn’t bother to remember swimming!’

‘Will you just forget about your swimming things!’ Catalina suddenly yells. ‘They are NOT the point! The point is you LYING to try and get me into trouble!’

‘But they made me be in the baby beginning group!’

(She doesn’t see why Catalina cannot understand this is a Big Problem.)

‘For god's sake, I don’t CARE about your swimming lesson! I-’ Catalina is breathing hard and then she hits one hand on the steering wheel. ‘You know what, I can’t even talk to you about this any more. I’m-’

She gives a quick, angry shake of the head and then puts the car in gear and pulls out of the parking space so quickly it’s as if she’s trying to run someone over.

Cathy turns her head to stare out of the window with hot, angry eyes. She doesn’t want to look at Catalina any more than she has to- she doesn’t even want to be in the same CAR as her, and she can’t tell if it’s because she’s scared or if she’s angry, and the mixed-up feeling is nearly as bad as everything else put together because it’s so confusing.

They drive in silence and when they get back to the flat, she half wonders if Catalina is going to start shouting again….but instead, she just tells Cathy to go to her room in an odd, flat, tight voice and before the words are even out, she’s walking to the cupboard where she keeps her wine and pulling the door open so fiercely it’s like it almost comes off its hinges.

(The wine cupboard makes her feel sad to look at- not because it IS sad but because it’s just above the identical lower cupboard that’s her cupboard and THAT makes her think about how exciting it was when Catalina cleared it for her and they made the agreement that Cathy would leave Catalina’s wine cupboard very much alone and that in return Catalina would leave Cathy’s special cupboard alone too. 

And even though her cupboard isn’t quite the same as Catalina’s cupboard- because it has a bottle of Ribena in it rather than wine- it’s still nearly as good because as well as the Ribena, she has a fancy glass that’s just like one of Catalina’s wine glasses (even though it’s made from plastic, it still looks real) and a little jar of chocolate buttons (which are much nicer than the boring nuts Catalina keeps in her cupboard for herself). 

Looking at it makes her sad because she knows that this argument won’t be settled as easily as the one that precipitated her getting her cupboard….and really, that’s because they HAVEN’T had an argument like this before, not EVER.

Actually, she thinks what she’s seeing is Catalina  _ Properly Cross _ .)

It makes her sad to think of the cupboard because now she’s finding it very hard to imagine them having nice happy times like that together ever, ever again.

And that’s a VERY scary thought.

Cathy stamps her way to her room, like if she stamps hard enough, she’ll stamp out the scared feeling and just have her own crossness (which is easier to feel), and rather than just closing her door, she slams it as hard as she can.

It makes a VERY satisfyingly loud noise, nearly loud enough to sum up how bad everything feels, so she pulls it open and does it again even though she knows she’s being VERY naughty and it will definitely make Catalina even crosser.

It’s odd- she can’t quite explain it, but it’s like there’s a part of herself that WANTS to make Catalina even crosser, just so that she’ll come to Cathy’s room (she’d rather have cross Catalina than no Catalina at all, because Cross Catalina is just Cross but no Catalina is horribly, horribly lonely.)

At least even if she’s being shouted at, she’s also being acknowledged and that might help get rid of the new feeling that’s starting to take hold of her- that maybe she’s SO bad Catalina can’t even look at her or be near her and that’s the worst thing ever and if slamming her door will bring Catalina back then that’s FINE-

Except it REALLY isn’t fine, because while it DOES bring Catalina back, it doesn’t help because it’s an even more shouty, cross Catalina, telling her very loudly that if she doesn’t Get Back Into Her Room Right This Instant and Leave The Bloody Door ALONE RIGHT NOW she will SERIOUSLY regret it-

And then Catalina is pulling her door shut nearly as hard as she was slamming it, which is just yet another thing which isn’t fair at all, and she’s left all by herself.

She wants to hide under the covers and pretend that everything is really just a horrible dream- but she can’t even do THAT because of course her bed is all stripped, with just a bare mattress after this morning so there’s no comfort to be had anywhere.

Even Tarkar is gone, and she realises he must have ended up in the washing machine with her sheets and pajamas by mistake and what if being in the washing machine HURTS him or RUINS him entirely?

It’s just one more horrible thing in a long, long list of horrible things, so much so that she can’t summon up the energy to do anything at all but cry and cry.

**

Hours and hours later, she’s curled up in a sad, snuffly ball on the carpet when Catalina knocks on her door again.

‘Cathy. It’s time for dinner.’

She sounds a lot less angry but still, not at all like herself.

She’s trying to decide what to do- get up and go and eat dinner like normal? Or say no- because really, she doesn’t feel hungry at all? Or just say nothing and wait for Catalina to go away?

She’s still trying to decide when Catalina pushes the door open.

She doesn't look quite so angry now- more just very, very tired and sad, and for a second it actually looks like her own eyes are the tiniest bit swollen, but only for a second, and of course it must be a trick of the light anyway.

She sighs when she sees Cathy on the floor, and holds out a hand to pull her to her feet.

‘Up you get mija.’

She stands, wobbly on her feet, sore and uncomfortable and not sure what to do or say, and Catalina shakes her head.

‘Come and eat.’ She wonders for a hopeful moment if that means everything is going to be forgotten about (although she also doesn’t feel like she could quite go back to normal after everything, even if Catalina can) but then Catalina says that they’ll talk more about everything tomorrow.

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t have the energy to talk about it calmly tonight and I don’t think you do either and I think the best thing would be just for us to leave it until we're both in a better state of mind.’

She isn’t sure if she likes that idea or not but she doesn’t argue. (She can't imagine she’ll feel anything other than worse tomorrow.)

Catalina walks out of her bedroom without looking back, like of course Cathy is going to follow her….and of course she does, making sure to close her bedroom door quietly this time.

Catalina gives her a plate of lasagna and asks if she’d like juice or milk as normal, but it doesn’t feel normal. The wrongness creeps all over her and makes her fidget in her chair. She rubs surreptitiously up and down one of her arms when Catalina isn’t looking but it doesn’t help much.

They eat.

They don’t talk. 

A couple of times Catalina opens her mouth like she’s going to say something and then closes it again and takes another bite of lasagna instead.

When they’re finished, they clear the table in near-silence. Catalina thanks her whenever Cathy passes her anything but that’s all. She doesn’t ask for Cathy’s help washing up, and she doesn’t turn on the radio while she cleans up the kitchen on her own either.

(It’s funny, that helping with the washing up is normally a chore she’s anxious to avoid. But now, she thinks she’d give anything to have Catalina making her help like normal, telling her that this all counts as Practise For Being A Grown Up and humming along to the music.)

  
  


When she’s finished, Catalina tells her that they’re going to make her bed again and that then she’s going to get ready for bed herself and although it’s not Cathy’s bedtime yet, she doesn’t argue.

It feels a bit like she’s being tidied away, like an inconvenient bit of mess left out that you just want to clear up and forget about for a while….but on the other hand, the sooner she goes to bed, the sooner she can wake up and have everything be normal again.

(After all, Catalina always tells her that things will be better in the morning, so maybe they really will be.)

*

They put on the fresh sheets and she gets new pajamas from her drawers (even if they’re not her nice otter ones) but Tarkar is still wet through from his whirl in the washing machine- Catalina has pegged him up to drip over the bath to dry out overnight.

When Cathy ventures to ask if he can’t go in the dryer instead, like the rest of the laundry, Catalina shakes her head and says no.

She doesn’t press it- she realises it’s probably a punishment for everything- but  _ still _ . The thought of sleeping without Tarkar after the day she’s had isn’t nice at all, and she’s sure Tarkar won’t sleep well with his paws trapped in tight wooden pegs and his head the wrong way up.

(Even upside down, his expression looks a bit forlorn and sad and lost. He sort of looks how Cathy feels, to be honest.)

Getting into bed by herself feels very lonely, and even Catalina’s unexpected goodnight kiss doesn’t help.

‘Do you want me to get one of your other toys just for tonight, mija?’

She shakes her head, it isn’t the same.

‘No thank you.’

‘Alright. Ready for another chapter?’

She shakes her head. She doesn’t really care about the March sisters now.

‘Ok.’ Catalina tucks the covers around her and starts to leave, and then pauses in the doorway.

‘Mija?’

She looks up, and Catalina hovers for a second and then comes all the way back into the room to sit on the edge of the bed.

‘It’s….not been a good day. For either of us. I think we both said some things we didn’t mean. But we’ll work it out. Ok?’

‘....Ok.’

She doesn’t know if she believes her but it’s sort of nice to hear anyway, even if Catalina is lying. (It means she isn’t too angry with Cathy to want to make her feel better.)

‘I know I was angry. But it’s only because I love you and-’ She hesitates. ‘Oh, it’s too hard to explain, but I hope you’ll understand one day.’

She isn’t sure how to respond exactly.

‘Are you still angry that I lied?’

‘Yes. But it’s ok. It will be ok.’

(She doesn’t explain why it’s ok though. And she sort of sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.)

She gives Cathy’s shoulder a little pat and goes out of the room, turning off the big light and closing the door.

Cathy lies in the dark and thinks- about how long and confusing the day has been, about how frustrating it is that all she can keep thinking about is whether or not Catalina really IS still angry with her when really, that isn’t fair at all.

Because she IS still cross about her swimming things, even if Catalina doesn’t seem to care at all about it, and how is it fair that her being angry has been just brushed off and forgotten about when Catalina being cross has taken over everything?

(It’s just like grown ups, to make everything about THEIR feelings.)

On the other hand, another part of her just wants it all to over and forgotten about- she wants to be able to feel normal again, for the scared mixed up feeling in her stomach to go away. 

(She wants Tarkar back too.)

It DOES help- a bit- that Catalina has said that things will be ok, because Catalina does usually know what she’s talking about, but not really enough that she can fall asleep, and after what feels like years and years and years of lying in the dark, she decides that she’s going to go and make Catalina explain the everything-being-ok theory in a bit more detail.

Maybe if she can hear it for herself, she’ll understand it and it will make her feel better, and sometimes Catalina lets her sit in her lap while she explains things which would also be nice, even if things  _ do _ still feel all strange and uncomfortable.

She pads down the hall- Catalina’s room is dark but light shows under the living room door. She’s about to push it open when she stops- it sounds like Catalina is talking on the telephone, and that’s strange because who would Catalina be calling at this hour?

‘....just so stressed…..too hard….’ Catalina sounds exhausted, her voice a bit blurry and muffly and funny sounding. At one point, she breaks off and Cathy hears her gulping like there’s something stuck in her throat. ‘....tomorrow…...hate to ask…..just want her out of the flat as soon as possible, to be honest-’

Cathy feels like she’s had a bucket of icy water tipped over her- it’s worse than jumping into the pool: she can’t breathe or move or think.

‘....thought it would make it easier….no one else…..the quicker she’s gone the better-’ 

She feels sick- for a minute, she thinks she actually might throw up right there in the hall.

There’s a little half laugh. ‘......Really, I didn’t want her to come at all in the first place but you know how it is, you can’t say no-’

She can’t bear to hear any more.

She tiptoes numbly back down the hall to her own room and gets under the covers, shaking and sick.

It’s exactly what she’s been scared of so, so many times in the worst moments….and now it’s actually happening, she can’t scream or shout or cry or do anything at all.

Catalina’s getting rid of her and that’s that.

  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your continued lovely feedback- I love getting your comments so much, they honestly make my day!
> 
> Another slightly angsty chapter I'm afraid- but it will end happily, I promise!!
> 
> Also- if anyone asks- YES I am aware that scoubidous, old overheard projectors and loom bands are not modern kids stuff BUT I was at Primary school in the late 90s so honestly Cathy is going to (sort of) get a late 90s school experience too!

She hasn’t been stood out in the hall all that long, but when she gets back under the covers, she starts to shiver and then she can’t stop. She’s shaking so hard, she wonders if she’s really sick- maybe she’s caught The Flu or one of the scary diseases that they have in books, Scarlet Fever or Galloping Consumption. The thought makes her hopeful for a moment- because surely Catalina won’t make her leave if she’s really properly ill? But then, she wonders, what if she DOES? That would be even worse- to be ill and to not even be at home, like when she was little and didn’t feel well at Rainbow Camp and still had to stay all night because the leader said it was Just Homesickness. Except that the Just Homesickness turned out to be chickenpox. (She hopes this doesn’t turn out to be chickenpox.)

Eventually, the shaking stops and the bed feels cozier but it’s still hard to get comfy. 

The new knowledge lies heavy on her like a weight and she can’t stop wondering what’s going to happen.

Is she going to have to leave first thing in the morning? Or later? Will she be allowed to pack- and if she is, will she be allowed to take the books that Catalina brought her, the toys and clothes and shoes….or will she have to leave them behind, so Catalina can get rid of them or take them back to the shop? 

(Will she have to leave Little Women behind, half unread?)

Maybe though she’ll just keep them, and give them to another little girl- a nicer, quieter, better goddaughter, who never slams doors or complains or argues or forgets things and who always, always, always tells the truth.

She thinks about this little girl folding over the pages in her books and wearing her beautiful new otter pajamas and making bracelets with her new Rainbow Loom and feels sick.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever fall asleep- her bed is very empty without Tarkar and her pillow is uncomfortably damp and cold under her cheek- but she does, somehow.

She wakes up in the quiet grey light of the very early morning with her heart pounding from a dream of being held under the water at the swimming pool as punishment for not being able to swim- and she’s JUST about to go and take refuge in Catalina’s bed when she remembers.

Catalina doesn’t want her any more.

And this is her last day.

This might be the last morning she ever has in her room- No. Not her room. Not her room anymore.

Catalina smiles at her the next morning when she comes into the kitchen already up and dressed and it’s horrible, having to see how happy the prospect of getting rid of Cathy is making her.

‘You’re up early mija- I was just about to come and wake you.’

She can hardly bear to look at Catalina at all- she just shrugs when Catalina asks if she slept well.

(Catalina also very gently asks if she should put a load of laundry on this morning, which is just a bit strange because Catalina never usually asks her opinion on whether or not chore-things need to done, apart from when she asks things like whether Cathy’s bedroom needs to be tidied up, which isn’t really a question at all because the answer- no matter what Cathy says to the contrary- is always yes. So she shakes her head and Catalina nods and says ok.

And then that’s apparently the end of the conversation because Catalina goes and starts making coffee and it’s all very confusing.)

The very worst thing about the morning is the way that Catalina still hasn’t really told her that she’s leaving yet. It makes her think that maybe Catalina doesn’t even want to bother with saying goodbye at all, and maybe someone else is just going to pick her up from school.

(And if that happens, who will pack her things? Or does she have to leave EVERYTHING behind? Surely Catalina won’t make her leave without even a toothbrush?)

She’s anxious enough about it that she decides to pack Tarkar in her bookbag so that no matter what happens to her, she won’t have to leave him behind…..but Catalina sees her trying to fit him in and takes him away, gently but firmly.

‘You can’t take toys to school mija, you know that. He’s still damp anyway.’

It’s true- but she’d rather a not-quite-dry-yet otter than none at all. (Still, she HOPES this means she’ll be coming home- or to what will soon be her old home, she supposes- after school. She can get Tarkar then.)

It’s still frustrating that Catalina hasn’t TOLD her anything though- she picks at her cereal, waiting for the announcement that she’s sure is coming but there’s nothing, just a reminder to eat up quickly and put her shoes on.

Eventually, she manages to screw up all her courage as they’re getting into the car and asks Catalina if she wants to talk to her.

Catalina looks confused for a second and then her face clears- she obviously realises that Cathy heard her the night before, maybe she even planned it to save them an awkward conversation and spoke extra loudly on purpose?

‘We’ll talk once you’re back from school mija- I think that would be for the best.’ She fastens her belt and adjusts her seat angle. ‘You shouldn’t worry about it though, ok? It will all be alright.’

After a moment, she realises Catalina is waiting for her to say something- although she isn’t sure what (to agree that she’s ok with leaving? To apologise and beg to stay?), so she says nothing, just stares at the half-peeled off sticker on the corner of the windscreen until Catalina sighs and turns on the ignition.

Of course it will all be alright for Catalina once she’s gone, she knows that already….but she wishes she could ask what's going to happen to her without the words sticking in her throat like they are now. Where will she go? Will she even be in the same school….or is she going to be sent somewhere else entirely? It’s not as if she has any other family to go to- she overheard enough conversations about how Catalina was ‘all that was left’ to know that. But where does that leave her?

She wonders if she’ll go to a Home- the sort with a Capital H- like in Tracy Beaker and have to learn to be noisy and shouty like those children are on TV. Or maybe she’ll go to an Orphanage (like in Annie, where she’ll have to scrub floors and wash clothes) or even somewhere like in Oliver Twist (where you have to eat gruel and wear rags)?

(Catalina told her there are no such things any more, but Catalina doesn’t know everything and what if this is like the time that Catalina said that definitely nobody would notice if she parked on a double yellow line for five minutes while she ran into the post office, but they did notice and then Catalina had gotten a ticket and then gotten very annoyed?)

What if she ends up going to a place like that? She tries to remind herself that really, Oliver and Annie were ok (even if they were 9 and 10 rather than 7) and so maybe she’ll be ok too?

But then she thinks about how even Oliver and Annie- despite all the horrible things that came first- ended up getting adopted by nice, kind rich people and didn’t have to stay in the scary places forever. She wishes there was a film about the other children in the orphanages- the ones who ended up there because they got to live with the nice, kind person first and then ruined it. She wishes she could know that  _ those _ children would be ok.

She walks into school with the hoards of happy, wanted children and feels lonelier than ever.

*

It’s hard to focus on school- or on anything- when she’s got something so scary looming over her. Anne has to dig her hard with her pointy elbow to make her reply when her name is called for registration. 

Her eyes blur too much to read the words on the projector during assembly and a teacher from one of the older classes directs a glare at her when she notices Cathy isn’t singing. She doesn’t want to get into trouble so she tries mouthing words- any words, nonsense words- instead but then it feels like she’s just making faces so she stops….and thankfully, the song ends before she can be properly told off over it.

She doesn’t put up her hand once during Numeracy and Literacy Hour; Stephen Gardener answers a hard question after she is called upon and gets her answer wrong, and he smirks at her from across the classroom. She doesn’t even care.

(Well. Not VERY much anyway.)

Then her teacher calls her over to her desk when the bell goes for morning playtime.

She thinks at first she’s just going to be reprimanded for daydreaming (and maybe for copying Anne’s sums, if she’s really unlucky, since she’d just not been able to make the numbers work when she tried it herself)....but her teacher looks much more serious than that sort of telling-off would warrant, and when she asks Cathy to sit down, she knows it’s going to be bad.

She wonders then if maybe THIS is it, if she’s going to be taken to her new home during breaktime, like when people are allowed to leave early to go to the dentists.

Instead though, the teacher says that she wants to have a Little Chat. About dinner money. And truthfulness.

Cathy squirms in her chair while the teacher talks about the Importance of Honesty.

‘-and it was such a disappointment to me, dear, as well as to your godmother, because as I said to her, I’ve always said that you’re one of the children who can really be trusted and relied upon…’

It’s awful, the way that consequences unravel like this, slowly and first and then quicker and quicker.

‘You know you can always tell me anything Cathy, but you must see that lying about something that serious…..well, it makes things very hard on me, because what if another child tells me the same thing tomorrow and I didn’t believe him because I was wondering if he might be lying?’

She can’t even look her teacher in the eye, she’s so ashamed- she stares at the clock over the blackboard instead, and watches the hands tick round, but they keep blurring together.

The thought of someone else going hungry and maybe never ever being believed all because of her is too awful to think about, and it makes her wonder if maybe Catalina is right to send her away, if she’s hurting people she hasn’t even met yet, all without meaning to.

‘-and so very unfair for your poor godmother. Imagine how you would feel if she told me something about you that wasn’t true?’

She can’t imagine Catalina doing something like that- that's the sort of thing that she and Anne might do to one another when they’re fighting (like when Anne told the teacher that Cathy had made a face at her when she must have known really that she was just yawning) but it’s not something for grownups to do themselves. She can imagine it would be horrible though- she feels bad enough being told off for something that she knows she definitely DID do.

No wonder Catalina wants to get rid of her.

She almost asks her teacher if maybe SHE knows where she’s going to be sent….but before she can, teacher says that she can run along now.

So she does.

*

She gets out into the playground late and makes it to where Anna and Anne are standing with some other girls just in time to hear Anne say something about ‘winning the swimming race’.

‘You didn’t win!’ The words come out quickly, without her even thinking about them, and Anne scowls at her.

‘I NEARLY won.’ She carries on with what she was saying- about how she’s going to practise opening her eyes under water until it doesn’t hurt so that she won’t even need goggles- but she turns a tiny bit away from Cathy as she does.

It stings, more than it usually would- she can’t bear the thought that she’s turning everyone against her, even Anne- and she wishes she could take the words back. She tries to look like she’s extra interested in what Anne is saying but it’s hard to care about swimming or anything else right now.

‘ _ You _ wouldn’t know who won anyway-’ Jayne Rochford turns on Cathy, breaking her out of her regret.  _ ‘You  _ were all the way over on the other side of the pool. In the _ shallow _ end.’

(She says it the way Cathy imagines you’d tell someone you saw them playing inside a dustbin.)

She’s trying and failing to think of a good response- she WAS in the shallow end, after all- when Kat goes on to say it’s because she can’t swim, just in case the others haven’t quite got it yet, and she has to clench her fists hard to stop herself from yanking one of Kat’s stupid plaits.

‘But I can-’

‘No you can’t-’

‘She CAN swim.’ Anne interrupts before Cathy can say anything, and it’s heartening, even if she says it without a lot of enthusiasm. ‘I’ve seen her.’

‘Then why was she in the shallow end?’

‘Because the swimming teacher made her!’ Anne sounds exasperated that everyone seems more interested in Cathy’s swimming abilities, or lack of, than in her plans for learning to see underwater.

‘Well _ I  _ think-’

‘No one cares what you think!’ Anne throws up her hands in an excellent imitation of her mother and it’s a relief that even when Anne is a bit annoyed, she’ll always be MORE annoyed at Jayne.

(Anne has still not forgiven Jayne for telling their class that her Mummy thought that Anne’s big brother George was secretly in PRISON rather than in London. Anne had hit Jayne and made her nose bleed and Mary had had to come into school to collect her early and, Anne said, complained all the way home that the phone had rung JUST as she’d finally gotten Baby Catherine down for a nap.)

Jayne scowls at her, then turns on her heel and stamps off to where the big girls are braiding scoubidous, turning back a couple of times to make sure they all see her going.

Once she’s gone, Anna adds that it’s stupid to make fun of someone just because they can’t swim, and anyway, she bets Jayne can’t do a handstand, even if she CAN swim.

Being able to do a handstand is, it turns out, something Anna is VERY good at, and the conversation drifts away from swimming to everyone trying to do handstands on the grass and arguing about how long their legs stayed upright for.

(Cathy is grateful for the defence. Even though she still sort of wants to insist to everyone that she CAN. And even though she thinks that perhaps a little tiny bit of Anna sticking up for her was just because she wanted to show off about being able to do a handstand.)

Still, she’s grateful Anna is her friend now.

(She’s going to miss her a lot when she has to leave.)

*

The clock ticks away the minutes and hours of the afternoon and she feels wound tight with anxiety the whole time. When the bell rings for the end of school, she almost jumps out of her chair she’s so on edge.

Anne looks at her oddly.

‘Are you ok?’

She nods. Anne doesn’t look as if she believes her.

Catalina is standing alone outside the classroom, waiting to collect her- on time, for once- and she wonders how relieved Catalina is that she’ll never have to make the drive, leave work early, and wait in the drafty school hall not talking to anyone ever again.

Her teacher comes over and Catalina asks for A Quick Word and Cathy wonders what she could possibly have done to end up in trouble since she’s barely said a word...and then she realises that they must be talking about how it’s her last day and not to expect her tomorrow and how Anna can change desks now and have Cathy’s old spot next to Anne rather than sitting her herself.

(She’s a little bit sad when her teacher says goodbye to her so casually as they leave. It seems that no one will miss her at all.)

Jane is at the flat when they arrive home and she smiles at Cathy like she’s really pleased to see her, tells her how much Anne loved her birthday present, and says how glad she is that they all had a nice time at the sleepover. 

She asks if Cathy liked the birthday cake that Anne saved for her.

Birthdays and sleepovers and the (only very slightly nibbled) piece of cake all feel a very, very long way away to her now, even though it was less than a week ago.

She can’t smile and answer Jane’s questions politely- she’s too anxious- so she just nods and looks at her feet.

(When she thinks Cathy can’t hear, Catalina murmurs to Jane  _ sotto voce _ that she must just be feeling a bit shy today what with everything going on, and Jane nods.

Cathy hates that they’re talking about her, but she also has a sudden wild urge to cling to Jane’s skirt and beg Jane to let her stay with her so that she doesn’t have to go to an Orphanage. She knows Jane has a spare room, and she wouldn’t take up much space and she hasn’t felt hungry all day so she probably won’t eat much either and then she can still see Anne sometimes….

But she stops herself, and screws her hands into fists. Of course she can’t stay with Jane- Jane can’t even look after Anne and Kitty all the time, so it’s not like she’d be able to look after Cathy. And besides, Jane is nice to her because she’s Anne friend, but it’s not like she cares about Cathy like she does Anne and Kitty. 

Then it occurs to her that since Jane and Catalina are friends too, and that since Jane is here now, that Jane must know what’s going on, that Catalina is tired of her and sending her away. Maybe she’s even here specially to help Catalina break the news.

She doesn’t quite have the courage to actually turn away while Jane is still talking to her, but she keeps her eyes on the carpet and eventually Jane stops saying things that require a response.

Good. She’s a traitor anyway.

*

The social worker smiles a saccharine smile at Cathy when she arrives, and walks around for a bit, saying how lovely things are and admiring the drawings on the fridge and asking questions about them in the way that grownups do when they’re trying to show you how  _ interested _ they are.

She says that Cathy is  _ excellent _ at drawing bears and Cathy can’t even be bothered to say that they’re really otters. It doesn’t matter anyway, but Catalina interrupts the woman after a moment to explain what they’re really meant to be. She even smiles at Cathy as she says it, as if Cathy should be grateful, as if she isn’t sending her away, and suddenly Cathy is furious with her.

How can she act so NORMAL? How can she not even care?

She scowls and says that maybe they ARE bears really and that Catalina doesn’t know EVERYTHING. Catalina flushes and starts to tell her rather sharply not to be so rude….and then stops herself, glancing anxiously at the social worker as if she’s said something wrong.

The social worker keeps smiling as if everything is normal and says that whatever they are, they’re  _ lovely  _ and anyway, maybe Cathy would like to go and play now while she talks to Catalina? 

She wouldn’t like that at all, but she goes anyway.

Jane asks if she’d like some company- and Catalina shoots Jane a panicked, pleading look, like Kitty when she gets dropped off at Reception and wants Jane to stay- and Cathy doesn’t even reply, she just leaves.

She doesn’t play though.

She needs to pack.

The only- the only good thing about today is that Tarkar is finally dry and she packs him first in her suitcase. Then her fluffy diary, and her favourite Barbie dolls and her pen that can write in different colours. 

She hesitates over her books- she still isn’t sure whether she’d be allowed to take them with her, and she doesn’t think she can bear packing them and having to unpack them again. (She’s already done that once, and she’s sure that this time, there won’t be a nice Catalina person to replace all the books she’s left behind.)

She’s folding her tshirts when there’s a knock on the door and Catalina pokes her head in.

‘Mija, can you come and-’ she stops ‘What are you doing?’

‘Packing.’ Surely she’s allowed to take SOME things with her? But Catalina’s face is white, like she’s seen something horrible.

She turns on her heel and walks quickly down the corridor, and after a moment Cathy can hear the rise and fall of voices: Catalina sounds upset and she wonders if she’s in trouble for trying to pack things that she isn’t meant to take?

The unfairness of it is too much for her and she upends her suitcase furiously- why is it that grownups can take whatever they want- always, and again and again?

They took her parents, her house, the furniture and the garden. They took her books, the toys that were too big to pack- and now they’re taking everything else, things that she actually owns herself and it’s so unfair, she hate it, she HATES it-

The anger bubbles up; the social worker comes in just as she throws the suitcase at the door- she has to step back to keep from getting hit.

‘Goodness!’

Cathy freezes, wondering if she’s going to get into trouble- maybe the social worker will think she’s REALLY bad now and decide she needs to go to a special home for Bad Girls?

But she doesn’t look angry- the shock clears from her face and she just looks concerned….and then she pastes on a smile.

She smiles- not like everything is normal, but like someone who is determined to smile no matter what- and looks around the room, turning her head this way and that as if she’s at a museum.

(She doesn’t say anything about the clothes lying scattered and half unfolded, or the fact that Cathy has just thrown a suitcase at her.)

‘What a beautiful bedroom!’

Cathy doesn’t reply- it’s not like it will be her bedroom for much longer.

‘And what lovely toys you have- and my! What a lot of books- you must like reading a lot!’

Cathy wants to ask if she remembers taking the stacks of books out of her suitcase and replacing them with boring t shirts and school dresses, if she remembers telling her off for packing books rather than clothes in the first place.

(She thinks that someone who makes you leave books behind shouldn’t be allowed to sound happy about reading ever again) 

Still, she doesn’t say anything, even though the social worker is looking at her expectantly.

Eventually, after an awkward pause, the woman lets some of the smile leak away (which is good- her face must be aching by now) and she perches herself on Cathy’s desk chair.

‘I think we should have a little chat, dear.’

(She’s always hated being called  _ dear. _ Dear is for birthday cards and thank you cards and postcards; dear is meant to be written down, not said out loud.)

Reluctantly, Cathy sits down on the edge of her bed. She grips the duvet tighter than tight between two fingers where the social worker can’t see.

‘I’ve heard there’s been a little bit of trouble here, hm?’

She nods.

‘How about you tell me all about it?’

She doesn’t feel like reliving it all so she says ‘Catalina can tell you.’

‘I’d rather hear it from  _ you _ dear.’

The woman’s smile is implacable and it’s obvious she won’t be put off so she gives in and recounts everything as truthfully as she can, wondering as she does whether this is just a test of some sort.

She tells her about being late waking up, the cheque, not having her swimming things, not wanting to get into trouble, and how things sort of spiralled with her meaning for them to.

She waits, at the end, for the social worker to tell her how well (or how badly) she did, whether or not she left anything out, whether or not she passed the test…..but instead she just nods.

‘And what would YOU like to happen next? If you could choose?’

This means she’s being given some choice over where they send her- but since the social worker doesn’t actually tell her what the options are, she wonders if maybe this  _ also _ is a test. 

Maybe it’s a test of whether or not she’s going to be greedy and asks for too much- like when you visit a house and get told to help yourself to biscuits but then they make you put the third one back because Two Is Quite Enough, Young Lady.

So she settles for ‘I’d like to live with someone nice. Not in a Home.’ (She tries to make the Capital H clear so that the woman doesn’t just think she means a normal home.)

‘Oh-’ There’s a flicker of surprise on the woman’s face before it’s smoothed over. ‘So you’d like to live somewhere else?’

She knows this is one of those questions grown ups ask you when they already know the answer and are just checking to make sure that you do too- like ‘You’re getting ready for bed, aren’t you?’ or ‘You’re going to pick up those crayons before they get broken, right?’

‘Yes.’

(She doesn’t know why this makes the social worker look so sad- after all, she got the answer right, didn’t she?)

And then the social worker says that they should talk about this All Together.

*

She follows the woman out into the living room, with Tarkar in her arms just in case the social worker tries the same trick on him that she did on Cathy’s books.

(She decides that if she does, she’s going to be like Kitty and bite her hand, even if she’s much, much bigger and more grown up than Kitty is.)

Catalina is sitting up very straight and still on the sofa, but when Cathy comes in, she gets up quickly and goes to kneel in front of her. She takes both of Cathy’s hands in her own (Tarkar crushed awkwardly between them) and Cathy realises that this is the goodbye she’s been waiting for.

It makes her feel the tiniest bit better that Catalina is obviously so sad to see her going, and she thinks about how she needs to remember all of this because when she’s grown up, it’ll be the last memory she has of Catalina.

There’s a yawning, gaping sadness inside her, waiting to open up.

‘Mija-’ Catalina is blinking a bit too much. ‘I am so sorry. I’m sorry for- for everything- I never should have gotten so angry with you, I shouldn’t have said those things.’ She snatches a gulp of air- her words tumble over one another. ‘I shouldn’t have shouted, I shouldn’t have-’ Her voice dies away and her hands squeeze Cathy’s even tighter.

Cathy’s throat aches so much she can hardly talk but she manages to talk, just about.

‘I’m sorry too.’ It’s not a lie- she IS sorry, sorry that she lied at all and sorry that it’s the thing that must have made Catalina begin to not-want her in the first place. It’s very faint but Catalina hears her; she nods.

‘I know, mija. I know. You know I didn’t mean what I said?’ Her eyes are pleading, her mouth is trying to smile; Cathy supposes she wants to finish everything off on a clean slate. ‘I didn’t mean it, I was just- tired and upset and- I promise I would never, ever try and take Maria’s place.’

No chance of that now she is sending Cathy away, so she just nods.

Catalina’s smile wavers and she hesitates.

Cathy waits for her to finish but she doesn’t say anything else, so she figures this must be the end of everything.

‘Catalina-’

‘Yes querida?’

It’s hard to ask but she feels like she has to, she has to KNOW.

‘Am I going to live somewhere….very far away?’

Catalina drops her hands abruptly.

‘What?’ She looks horrified. ‘Oh mija- I know you’re upset with me, I know that, I do and I understand but must you  _ really _ ?’

She’s so confused- why is Catalina looking at her like that, what has she said wrong? Why is she looking so shocked? Nothing makes SENSE anymore-

‘What?’

‘Please Cathy, I couldn’t- I can’t bear the idea of losing you, not after this, not now-’ Tears are sliding down Catalina’s cheeks and she brushes them roughly away with her fingertips and keeps talking. ‘If Maria knew that you- that I-’ It’s as if she can’t even say it- although what it is, Cathy has no idea. ‘Please, can’t we give this another try? I love you mija, so very much, I-’ 

She presses the back of her hand against her mouth, like she’s in pain, and Cathy’s head is whirling, why is Catalina talking as if this is her choice, as if this is something SHE wanted? Why is she making it Cathy’s decision, why is she twisting things around after the phonecall, why-

Nothing makes sense, she’s not sure of anything anymore, and she can’t work things out in her own head either because of the weight of everyone’s eyes upon her as they all wait for her to respond, to see what she’s going to say, but how can she respond, she doesn’t know what the right answer is- is it a test or a trick or something else?

She opens her mouth- because everyone is looking at her so expectantly- but instead of words, she bursts into tears.

(It’s probably a good thing. If she’s crying, she can’t say the wrong thing and make everything worse.)

Still, it’s also embarrassing to be crying with an audience- she tries to stop and just ends up gulping and hiccuping through the tears. Catalina reaches for her and she flinches away instinctively- and the hurt on Catalina’s face just makes her cry harder.

The social worker tries to put an arm around her and she pushes her away- she definitely doesn’t want this strange woman’s cold comfort, the woman who took away her books and her home. 

She’d like to hide in her bedroom so she can try and get things straight in her head and work out just what is going in- but as she turns to flee, she runs straight into Jane.

‘Easy there, sweetheart-’

At least Jane doesn’t try to touch her- she just presses a wad of Kleenex into her hands and steps back so Cathy can scrub her face and nose herself.

‘Mija, what’s the matter-’

‘Would you like to tell us what’s wrong Catherine?’

‘It’s CATHY’ She snaps it, and then wonders if that’s going to count against her too; she sniffles, humiliated and uncomfortable, and Jane looks down at her sympathetically.

‘Let’s go and wash your poor face, hm? And maybe Catalina could put the kettle on for a nice cup of tea when we’re back?’ It’s said very gently but firmly too- it’s not a suggestion. 

Still, it’s sort of nice that at least one person still seems like they know what they’re doing, so she follows Jane out of the room while Catalina goes to the kitchen, and when Jane offers her hand, she takes it.

It’s cool and soft- smaller than Catalina’s and Jane isn’t wearing any rings but it’s still nice.

The living room isn’t noisy, but the bathroom still feels like a haven of peace: no one is watching her or trying to tell her things or saying things that confuse everything.

Jane sits her down on the edge of the bath, then runs cool water over a flannel and hands it to her.

‘Here, sweetheart.’

The cold feels nice on her hot cheeks and stinging eyes.

Jane waits quietly until she’s finished pressing every last scrap of coolness to her face and the flannel is warm and not as nice feeling again, and then she sits down next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders. 

Cathy finds she’s leaning into her- she doesn’t want to really (Jane is still a traitor after all, even if she DID give her some tissues) but it’s too hard not to. 

‘Better?’

She nods.

‘It’s been a hard day for you, hasn’t it?’

‘Yes. It’s been HORRIBLE. And yesterday too.’

Jane tightens her arm around her.

‘I don’t want to tell you what to do or how to feel sweetheart- we all have rights to how we feel, and it’s not my place to interfere. But I do care about you- and Catalina. I want you both to be happy.’

Cathy nods- she understands. Jane is going to explain to her how her moving away is all for the best and she’s going to have to pretend to agree because Jane was nice and gave her a flannel.

‘Did you know I used to be a social worker?’

This isn’t what she was expecting to hear at all. She shakes her head slowly, she isn’t sure where this is going. It’s hard to imagine Jane in the place of her own social worker- she wonders if Jane made many little girls get rid of their books.

‘Were you? Did you like it?’

‘Yes, I did. Very much.’ Jane looks a bit far away for a moment and then comes back hurriedly. 

‘Why did you stop?’

‘Other things were more important.’

‘How long ago did you stop?’

‘About three years ago….’ She pauses then continues. ‘Anyway, I worked with lots of families- all sorts. And I’ve seen all the- all the trouble that families can give one another.’

Cathy nods again. She can see where this is going.

‘I’ve had lots of children have to leave home and live somewhere else and-’

Cathy waits for Jane to tell her that it’s really all alright, that it happens a lot and she just needs to be brave or something like that. Instead though, Jane just shakes her head and seems to wilt a little on the edge of the tub.

‘Well, everyone wants the children to be happy in their new homes but it can be very...difficult to get used to a new place and new people. Did it feel strange when you first came here?’

She nods- she can remember those first bewildering days, before Catalina’s flat had settled down into familiar shapes, when she got the doors in the hallway confused and felt afraid that she was putting things out of place every time she moved.

‘So- yes. Living with new people can be very, very difficult, even when everybody wants what’s best- and especially when you don’t know them. It can be hard- very hard, sometimes.’ Jane is choosing her words carefully. ‘Now we all understand things have been hard for you here too- that things have gotten a little unsettled lately, haven’t they?’

‘Yes….’ She wonders how much Jane knows about everything- she wonders if Jane thinks she’s a liar too: she’d ask but she’s having to focus too hard to make sense of what Jane is saying. Why is she making leaving sound so scary, why isn’t she doing the grownup thing of telling Cathy it will all be Fine even when it isn’t?

It reminds her of when Anne had to go to the dentist and she’d gotten into trouble for telling her how much it hurt when they prodded and poked your teeth (even though it HAD hurt, a bit, when she’d gone the week before and so she hadn’t been exaggerating THAT much).

But Jane is a grownup and grownups aren’t meant to try to scare you and-

‘-know things have been difficult, but sweetheart-’ Jane is looking at her very intently. ‘Catalina loves you so much, she only lost her temper because she was upset and she feels terribly that she scared you so much… The thought of losing you is really scary for her and I know she’d miss you so much if you went somewhere else, as would I. And Anne and your other friends. Your teacher too.’ Jane takes a deep breath. ‘Please Cathy, won’t you give it another try? I truly do think you’ll be better off here than in a foster home…’

Her mouth is dry, she feels sick with how upside down everything is. Has Catalina told Jane it’s her idea? But why-

Jane is looking at her, so patient and so hopeful. It’s somehow not as hard as having Catalina look at her.

‘But I-’ Her voice is croaky. ‘I HAVE to go-’

‘Why, sweetheart?’

‘Catalina doesn’t want me anymore.’

She’s said it out loud and it’s both a relief and exquisitely painful at the same time. It’s a relief because saying it out loud means it isn’t a secret, but also telling someone else makes it feel real, even though she knows Jane knows already.

Jane doesn’t LOOK as if she knows already though- her eyebrows knit in confusion.

‘Why do you think that, sweetheart?’

‘I heard her-’ She sucks in a little breath of air through her tight throat. ‘She said she didn’t want me ever and that she wanted me to go away-’

Jane looks even more confused. ‘She told you that she didn’t want you?’

She’s about to nod and then remembers that this is how it all started, not choosing her words carefully enough. So she shakes her head. ‘I heard her say it.’

‘To who?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Was it at school?’

‘It was on the phone.’

‘Catalina told someone that she didn’t want you over the phone- and you overheard-’

Cathy nods.

‘When was this darling?’

‘Last night.’

‘Do you remember when?’

She shakes her head. ‘It was after bedtime.’

Jane’s face is scrunched up like she’s trying to sort things out in her own mind, she looks as confused as Cathy feels….and then it’s as if something falls into place and her eyes open up wide and she starts shaking her head frantically.

‘Oh no, Cathy, no, no-’

‘I DID!’ She can’t bear to be disbelieved when she’s telling the truth this time. ‘I did, I did honestly, I swear-’

‘No, no-’ Jane looks even more urgent. ‘No, I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean I didn’t believe you, I just- I think you misunderstood what you were hearing...Oh god, what a mess...’ She looks terribly sad. ‘Did you really think Catalina wanted to give you up?’

‘Yes.’ She doesn’t understand why this bothers Jane so much- of course she thought it, she still DOES think it-

‘Come on-’ Jane stands up and holds out her hand again, and Cathy takes it automatically. ‘I think we should explain things to you. Properly.’

*

It’s easier back in the livingroom because although things are still confusing, it’s a bit less scary when she’s holding onto Jane’s hand. And because with Jane talking, no one is looking at her as much.

‘-and so she called me just to ask if I’d come and give some moral support because she was feeling a bit anxious about the visit today-’ Jane finishes. ‘It was never you she was talking about.’

‘Ay dios mio, no!’ Catalina breaks in fervently. ‘Not you, querida, never ever you!’ She glances at the social worker, looking incredibly guilty and more than a little embarrassed. ‘I was- I’m so sorry, I really am but I was so anxious and tired and-’

She takes a breath. ‘It was her- you- who I was saying I didn’t want to come, not you mija, not for a second. I have never not wanted you, never-’ She breaks off and turns uncomfortably to the social worker. ‘Of course- I do, I really do understand why these visits need to take place and i want you to understand that I am entirely happy to cooperate and work with you as much as I possibly can, I was just feeling very overwhelmed and-’

The social worker gives an awkward little nod and then coughs.

‘Of course. Ah- please don’t mention it…’ She half laughs, although nothing funny has been said. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time someone has said that about me, believe me-’

Catalina smiles awkwardly, and turns back to Cathy quickly. ‘So you see querida, it was all just a big misunderstanding, and if I’d had any idea that you’d overheard or that that was what you were thinking…’ She shakes her head. ‘Oh mija, I can’t imagine how you must have felt!’

Cathy swallows hard, it’s all so much to take in, like the world has been tipping up and down and now she can’t tell if things are upside down or not because everything is changing so quickly. ‘So….you don’t want to send me away?’

‘No! Not for a moment mija, not for a second- I have always, always wanted you, and I’d certainly never send you away!’

She does sound as if she means it.

‘And you weren’t ever going to send me away?’

_ ‘Never.’ _

‘And-’ This is the hardest one but she has to ask. ‘Are you still cross that I lied?’

‘Oh mija…’ Catalina shakes her head. ‘I still wish that you hadn’t done it- but it was a mistake. And we all make mistakes sometimes.’

‘But  _ are _ you?’

‘No. Now all I’m really feeling is sorry that you had to go through such a horrible couple of days- it must have been very frightening.’

Funny that thinking about it is almost as bad experiencing it- remembering it is like she’s seeing it all from the outside, like she’s watching herself hear the phonecall and everything else, and she’s sad for herself, for the past her that has been trying so hard to be brave.

She can feel the tears welling up again- funny, that she’s been able to keep herself normal all day when she’s believed everything to be terrible but now she knows it’s ok, she can’t.

‘It was, I thought that-’ She sniffs and wishes she still had the tissues from earlier.

‘Mi vida-’ Catalina kneels in front of her and opens up her arms- it feels so strange, after everything, because for the last couple of days, Catalina has felt like a stranger but now she’s her again but she hasn’t forgotten the stranger with Catalina’s face that shouted and snapped, or the other Catalina, who maybe existed just in her head, who wanted to give her away and looked forward to it…

So she hesitates for a second. Just for a second though, and then she can’t hold herself back anymore because really, what she wants more than anything is for things to be back to normal, for Catalina to hug her again and make everything ok.

Then she’s being scooped up and held tightly and it’s such a relief after the horrible loneliness of the last few days that she’s crying again, even harder than before, and gripping onto Catalina so tightly that she’s sure she’ll leave bruises.

She can’t make herself let go but it’s ok- Catalina is holding onto her just as tightly, after all.

(And she’s not the only one crying.)

*

Even when everything has calmed down, she still can’t really let go of Catalina- she’s scared that if she does, somehow everything will go back to being scary and confusing and lonely again. She holds tight to Catalina’s hand, as if she’s Kitty’s age, as she shows the social worker around the flat and talks about things like work-life balance and school support. 

(At one point, Jane gets up and says she should let them get on with it and Catalina shoots her a very pleading look and Jane ends up sitting back down and pouring herself another cup of tea.) She even grips onto the hem of Catalina’s shirt when they see the social worker and Jane off at the front door and Catalina needs her hands back again.

Jane tells Cathy that she’s sorry she’s had to deal with so much but that she’s sure things will be better now that everything is sorted out, and that if Cathy ever wants to talk to her about anything at all, she will always be happy to listen.

She nods. (Maybe Jane isn’t ONLY nice to her because she’s Anne’s friend after all.)

Catalina hugs Jane warmly and says that she owes her a thousand favours and that Jane must be sure to come to her the minute she needs anything at all, that she’s a wonderful friend who Catalina will never be able to thank enough for helping sort all of this out.

(The social worker just gets a polite handshake and an embarrassed smile from Catalina, and a mumbled ‘goodbye’ from Cathy. But to her credit, she doesn’t seem to take it personally. She says she’ll ‘check in again soon’ and Cathy hopes that ‘soon’ means ‘months and months.’ She can tell from Catalina’s face that she’s hoping something similar.)

Then the door shuts and it’s just the two of them- odd, after everything, and even a little bit scary.

There’s a second of silence, of total stillness, of two people trying to scramble to untangle the confusion of the past few days...and then Catalina scoops Cathy into her arms again, lifting her right off her feet and picking her up as if she’s no bigger than Kitty.

‘Oh mija-’ Cathy wonders if Catalina is going to apologise to her again (she hopes she doesn’t- she’s said sorry at least a hundred times already, maybe a thousand, and she knows it will just make them both cry again and she’s cried enough for one day) but Catalina doesn’t, she stops herself with what looks like effort.

Catalina carries her back into the livingroom and sits down; Cathy wriggles into a comfortable position in her lap and looks up at her when Catalina takes a deep breath.

‘Mija- do you think we could maybe start again?’ Catalina is looking at her very seriously, almost like she’s talking to another grownup. ‘Could we start fresh tomorrow- forgive each other and begin again? I think we could both do better.’

‘Okay.’ Starting fresh sounds like a good idea- not being in trouble, not being cross. Still, she wants to say it one more time. ‘I’m sorry I lied.’

Catalina nods seriously. ‘Thank you, mija. And I’m sorry that I forgot your swimming things, I know you must have been very disappointed.’

Cathy hasn’t even been thinking about swimming- it feels like a long time ago. She shrugs. It probably doesn’t even matter any more.

‘It occurred to me…’ Catalina shifts her slightly and clears her throat. ‘I never even asked about how your first school swimming lesson went mija. And I did mean to.’

(She knows that this is true- Catalina had said more than once that she was looking forward to hearing all about it.)

‘That’s ok.’

‘I’d still like to hear about it. If you’re not too tired, that is….’

And with that, everything somehow starts to slide back into how it used to be- back into being able to tell Catalina everything, back into Catalina WANTING to hear everything…

‘Well first of all, I had to sit with Stephen on the coach-’

Catalina gasps, a real not-pretend gasp of horror.

‘But he’s that horrible boy that tortures insects!’

And Cathy knows everything is going to be ok.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plotless fluff, to atone for the angst of the last few chapters- I'll be honest, very little happens.  
> Still, do let me know if you enjoy it- and thank you all again for the comments thus far, they absolutely make my day and I love them so much and am so so grateful to everyone writing them!
> 
> Depending on people's thoughts, the next chapter will either involve Cathy having a day off school to properly recover from everything (and will therefore be more fluff) or I'll move onto a new plotline. Thoughts?

Catalina is a  _ very _ satisfactory audience- she winces sympathetically when Cathy talks about the nasty swimming costume and having her hair scraped back, she shakes her head when Cathy mentions how she forgot to hold her nose.

‘Oh mija! They really thought you couldn’t swim? But you’re so good!’

Hearing Catalina’s indignance on her behalf helps take the sting of the memory away a bit (she knows she shouldn’t still mind, after everything but as it turns out, she still  _ does _ .) 

She nods. ‘They put me in the baby class. Like I couldn’t swim  _ at all _ . I had to blow bubbles with my face in the water AND Anne nearly won the swimming race.’

‘It’s not the baby class mija, just the beginners class. You’re lucky that you’ve learnt to swim already but the children who haven’t shouldn’t need to feel bad about that-’

Catalina says it gently but she doesn’t like that she’s being chided, even very mildly. She sort of sees Catalina’s point, but she also doesn’t want to get sidetracked by having to feel sorry for the other children when the POINT is that it was HER having a horrible time. 

‘Ok, then they put me in the BEGINNER class. AND they made us practise kicking our feet and it was really boring-’

Catalina hides a smile.

‘Didn’t you tell them that you could swim already?’

‘I….couldn’t.’ She doesn’t want to have to dwell on  _ why _ she couldn’t, she doesn’t want to have to remember how for a moment, she had been able to hear Dad’s voice SO clearly and it had almost been like he was in the pool, just behind her. Even the chlorine smell had faded for a moment…..

Thankfully though Catalina doesn’t press it.

‘Now everyone thinks I can’t swim.’

‘Well-’ Catalina gives her a squeeze. ‘Then they’ll all be in for a shock next week when you show them how good you are, won’t they?’

*

Catalina promises to have a word with her teacher about the swimming mix up.

‘Perhaps we could go for an extra practise at the weekend, mija, if you like? Just to make sure you remember to hold your nose next time…’

Catalina’s teasing, but she’s too distracted by the offer to react to it. ‘Oh can we?’ She hasn’t been swimming- properly swimming- in AGES.

‘Of course.’

‘And I can swim properly, with my hair fluffed out like normal?’

‘Why, mija, how else would you wear it?’

  
  


*

She thinks everything is normal again- it’s meant to be normal- but she still somehow doesn’t really feel quite normal: the unsettled feeling lingers behind the feeling of being excited about treats and trips and weekend things. She wonders if it’s like getting over being ill- how even when you’re not poorly anymore, you still aren’t quite better either, and even when you’re doing normal things like school, you still have the cough or the runny nose to remind you that you’re still recovering.

At dinner time, Catalina serves up the hotpot from the slowcooker but neither of them have much appetite, and she squirms a bit in her chair. (She wishes she was small enough to sit in Catalina’s lap to eat because when she’s there, the lonely-scared feeling goes away a bit. But she isn’t small- she’s seven, nearly eight, nearly a grown up. Seven-nearly-eight is old enough to sit up properly. Seven-nearly-eight is old enough to just deal with the scared feeling.)

Eventually Catalina puts down her fork and Cathy immediately does the same.

‘I’m finished too.’

Catalina hasn’t eaten much herself but she eyes Cathy’s nearly-full bowl with concern. ‘Do you want something else mija? You’ve barely eaten anything.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Are you sure? Not even for a sandwich or some cereal or something?’

She shakes her head, even though cereal for dinner would normally feel like a treat and she should be hungry, having not really eaten her school dinner. It’s funny- not only does she not feel hungry, she actually feels a bit sick, and she wonders if feeling sick is a symptom of Scarlet Fever. The books aren’t really very clear.

Catalina doesn’t insist, just covers the leftovers and puts them away and says she can make up for it at breakfast time.

(Catalina obviously doesn’t know the symptoms for Scarlet Fever either.)

After dinner is usually time for homework but she can’t settle to it tonight.

She stares at her spelling list but it’s like staring at wallpaper- she’s not learning them, she’s just looking at them. She can’t remember how to do the sums she’s been set, she knows how she’s meant to write them down on the page, all lined up neatly, but she can’t remember which bit she’s meant to cross out when she’s working out the answer or what exactly is meant to go in place and whatever she tries doesn’t seem right at all.

It’s like she can’t make her brain work like it usually does, and after a while she pushes the book away in frustration.

Catalina looks up from her book. ‘Would you like some help mija?’

‘No!’ She’s so frustrated that she says it crossly, rudely even- and then she freezes as she realises what she’s said, and although she knows everything is ok now, there’s also another little bit of her brain telling her that maybe Catalina will get cross again and maybe she’ll shout and maybe she WILL give her away this time-

Catalina doesn’t shout- she gets up and gives her a cuddle and then she asks again if she would like help so that Cathy can say ‘No thank you’ politely, and then she looks- at the page in the exercise book that is already going grey and furry with rubbings out, and at where Cathy is sitting forlornly in her chair.

‘You know what, let’s leave it for tonight, mija.’

‘I can’t, I haven’t finished-’ She knows it’s the rules, you HAVE to do homework, it’s not like you get to choose.

Catalina glances at her watch. ‘You’ve been at it for over twenty minutes, that’s quite enough.’

‘But I’m not DONE.’

Catalina closes her book firmly. 

‘You’re in no state for homework tonight mija. You can do it tomorrow and I’ll explain to your teacher when I drop you off so she understands.’

She doesn’t understand how Catalina is so calm over this- doesn’t she know that you can’t just NOT do your homework, that school doesn’t WORK like that? Does Catalina WANT her to get kept in at playtime?

‘You’re meant to MAKE me do my homework!’

Catalina has got her exercise book but she’s still holding stubbornly onto her pencil. Catalina sighs and sits down in the chair opposite her.

‘Mija-’

‘It’s not fair, you’re MEANT to make me do it, that’s what grownups HAVE to do-’

She’s not sure why she suddenly feels so ANGRY with Catalina- there’s a tiny part of her that is trying to remind her of all the time’s she’s done all she could to NOT do her homework, but mostly, all she can feel is this overwhelming crossness, this sense that Catalina is trying to trick her, to get her into trouble on purpose-

It’s not something she’s ever thought before, but now she can’t stop it-

‘Cathy.’ Catalina’s voice is very calm, and so quiet that Cathy realises she has to stop arguing or she won’t be able to hear. ‘If you calm down, I can explain.’

She thinks about saying that she doesn’t WANT Catalina to explain- but she doesn’t quite dare. Catalina’s still talking, saying that she understands that she’s angry with her right now.

‘It’s ok to feel angry with me but you still need to listen. Are you listening?’

She doesn’t say yes, she doesn’t say no. Catalina waits a moment and then keeps talking with her new very quiet voice.

‘I’m not trying to stop you from doing your homework-’

‘You ARE-’

Catalina holds up a hand. ‘Let me finish. I’m not trying to stop you doing your homework to get you into trouble. And I do understand how homework works mija. I was at school too, remember?’

‘Not MY school.’

‘No. But still, I don’t think homework is all that different.’ She pauses.’ Do you know what my main job is?’

‘Something with computers.’ (Catalina has told her what she does before but she’s too cross to remember properly. Although somehow less cross than she was. A tiny bit less.)

‘Partly. That’s what I’m paid for anyway. But really mija, my main job is to look after you. Do you know what looking after you means?’

Cathy considers. ‘Making my breakfast and picking me up from school? And buying me books and washing my P.E kit?’

Catalina smiles. ‘Yes. And also it means wanting what is best for you. And sometimes what is best for you is making you do your homework. But sometimes, what is best for you is doing other things. Because right now, I think you need a nice hot bath and good night's sleep more than you need to do sums. Do you understand?’

She doesn’t, not exactly, but Catalina doesn’t look like she’s going to change her mind.

‘Why can’t I do both? I usually do both.’

‘Because right now, I think you’re too tired and overwrought to be able to work properly, and I think if you spend too long trying, it’s going to get harder rather than easier. So you might as well stop now, do you see?’

She still doesn’t. But she IS tired.

‘I promise you won’t get into trouble.’

She holds out her hand for the pencil that Cathy is still gripping firmly.

‘I promise.’ She looks as if she means it. ‘Come on Cathy, have I ever broken a promise to you before?’

It’s true- she hasn’t. Cathy reluctantly gives it up.

‘Good girl. I know you wanted to do it, and that’s a very good thing and something that will stand you in good stead mostly- but no work is worth you upsetting yourself over it when you’re already worn out, ok?’

‘Ok.’ 

(Cathy wonders if this theory is going to apply next time that she doesn’t want to tidy her bedroom, or help with the washing up or the laundry or the hoovering or any of the other jobs that Catalina insists she ‘needs to learn early mija, I’m not letting you grow up to become one of those useless students who sets the flat on fire trying to make popcorn or dyes all their clothes pink because they can’t do laundry-’ 

‘Mummy said that you did that. Because you didn’t separate your clothes by colour even though she told you to.’

Catalina tinges pink. ‘Well all the more reason to learn early mija so you don’t make my mistakes.’)

*

She gets to use some of Catalina’s special extortionately-expensive, for-a-treat-only bath salts in her bath. Catalina says it’s a reward for capitulating over the homework issue. 

(‘What does capitulating mean?’

‘Giving in mija, but in a grownup way.’

It’s a good word. She makes a mental note to use it lots and lots.)

It’s not her bedtime by the time she’s finished, but Catalina says that she looks worn out and that getting tucked up cozy in bed with Tarkar would probably be a good idea….except she says it in a way that means it’s not really a suggestion.

And as much as Cathy wants to protest two nights in a row of early bedtimes, she also just wants this horrible day to be over.

Catalina sees her glancing a little resentfully at the clock as she goes to fetch her pajamas and grins.

‘You can stay up later on Friday and Saturday to make up for it, if you like, to make it fair mija.’

‘How late?’

‘We’ll see.’

‘After midnight?’

‘Querida, even _ I _ don’t go to bed after midnight.’

Cathy has no idea why not- it’s not like there’s anyone to tell Catalina to go to bed, after all. Being a grownup is wasted on grownups, really.)

Catalina reads another chapter of Little Women (she thinks Alice in Wonderland made croquette sound much more fun than it sounds here) and then tucks the covers around her and Tarkar like normal.

‘I’m sorry you had to go to sleep last night without him.’

‘It’s ok.’ Then she thinks of something. ‘But if he gets washed again, can I have him dried before bed now I’m not in trouble?’

Catalina blinks at her. ‘Mija, I said he couldn’t go in the drier because I was afraid it would ruin him- the heat might have melted the fibers of his fur. It wasn’t a punishment.’

‘Oh.’

So it seems there’s a lot she’s been getting wrong.

*

It’s hard to fall asleep, even with Tarkar back in her arms- not because she’s thinking about anything in particular, she’s just THINKING too much, full stop- but she must do eventually because the next thing she knows, she’s waking up in the dark and one of her pillows is on the floor and her covers are all twisted up at her feet and her heart is beating almost out of her chest because there’s something chasing her, something getting closer and closer and-

And then she opens her eyes.

She picks up her pillow and fixes her duvet- but it’s even harder to go back to sleep now, even though she knows everything is alright now, even though she knows there’s nothing wrong at all. 

She isn’t being sent away. Catalina isn’t tired of her. She isn’t going to have to leave.

She knows this but even though she thinks it as hard as she can, screwing up her eyes with the effort, the scary lonely feeling comes back anyway, and even though she knows everything is fine and back-to-normal, it’s hard to make herself really feel it, because the sick shaky feeling is so strong.

She lies in the dark for hours and hours- at least, it feels like hours and hours- and thinks that surely it must be morning soon….but when she looks at her clock, it’s only midnight. That means it’s AGES until morning- even Catalina will be asleep now. The whole WORLD must be asleep.

She switches on her light and picks up a book from next to her bed but the magic doesn’t work like it usually does. For some reason, instead of just enjoying the story, she finds herself thinking about all the sad parts, about Crunchem Hall looming like a prison, about the glass sticking out of the walls of the punishment cupboard, even about the parrot being all alone stuck up the chimney in the dark-

She closes the book. She isn’t sure what to do.

Normally, she’d just go down the hall and see if sleep came more easily in Catalina’s bed- but even though everything is Normal now, she still feels strange about it, somehow. What if Catalina gets annoyed at being woken up? What if she tells her off for being awake so late? What if she just makes her go back to her own room?

(It’s true Catalina has never done any of those things. But then again, she doesn’t usually get angry with Catalina and Catalina never used to shout…. So maybe everything is different.)

She decides- after another hours-and-hours of lying there- that maybe it won’t hurt to just go and see if Catalina’s door is open (like normal) or closed.

At least then she’ll KNOW.

If the door is open, then that means things are really ok- if not….well, she doesn’t want to think too much about what she’ll do if it’s shut, or what it  _ means  _ if the door is shut.

But she still wants to check.

Halfway down the hall though, she gets distracted by the light spilling out from the door to the living room and kitchen. For a half second, she wonders if it means they’re being  _ burgled  _ (and if they are, whether they’ll be nice burglars like in Burglar Bill or the not-so-nice burglars that you see on the news….and then she hears the sound of a mug being put down, and rationalises that surely this means that they must be nice burglars (because a nasty burglar surely wouldn’t wait around long enough to make a cup of tea?) and that means that it should be safe to go and ask them to please not steal anything important.

When she pushes open the door though, it turns out there’s no burglar at all. Just Catalina sitting at the table with a steaming mug in front of her. She isn’t drinking- she’s just sort of staring into space, and she jumps a bit when Cathy comes in.

‘Oh mija, you gave me a fright- you came in quieter than a mouse!’

There’s not just a mug on the table. There’s also the tin with the pink roses on it. The tin where the biscuits live. And there are crumbs on the table.

She points an accusing finger. ‘You’re eating the biscuits!’

Catalina shrugs. ‘I got peckish.’

‘You’re not allowed to eat sweets after bedtime! It rots your teeth!’

Catalina looks remarkably unaffected at having her own words parroted back to her.

‘True.’ Catalina prises the lid off the tin and holds it out to her. ‘But I won’t tell if you won’t.’

It’s tempting- she hesitates for a moment, then takes a jammy dodger and climbs up onto a chair.

‘I think I’m peckish too.’

‘I’m not surprised mija, you barely touched your dinner.’ Catalina nibbles the edge of her pink wafer and takes a sip from her mug. It doesn’t smell like coffee, which is strange.

‘What’s that?’

‘Camomile tea. It’s meant to help you sleep.’

‘Oh. Does it work?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Can I try some?’

‘I don’t think you’ll like it.’

‘Can I though?’

Catalina pushes the mug over. ‘If you want to. Be careful, it’s very hot.’

It turns out Catalina is right on both counts- the camomile tea IS very hot and also not very nice tasting. Still, she’s never liked grownups telling her what she will and won’t like, so she asks for a cup of her own and tries to look as if she’s being serious when she says it actually tastes nice.

Catalina laughs, pours her a tiny cupful and adds a spoonful of honey, and Cathy feels a little frisson of pride at how grownup it feels to be drinking tea- not juice or squash or milk- at night like a grownup.

‘Here.’

‘Thank you.’ She takes another sip. ‘I don’t think it’s making me feel sleepy.’

‘I know. I don’t think it really works.’

‘Can you not sleep either?’

Catalima shakes her head. ‘Too many thoughts buzzing around.’

‘Like flies?’

‘Yes. Or wasps.’

‘What kind of thoughts?’

Catalina hesitates and then shakes her head. ‘Nothing for you to worry about, mija.’

‘I’m not worried.’

‘I know, I meant more- just grown up things, really. Boring things.’

‘Oh.’ She pushes a few crumbs around on the Formica. ‘I couldn’t sleep. And then I could, but then I woke up.’

‘Did you have a bad dream?’

‘Not really- my brain wouldn’t go to sleep.’ It’s hard to explain. Catalina nods. 

‘It’s been a...stressful couple of days. No wonder we’re both a bit unsettled.’

There’s a pause, and they sip and sit in silence.

Then Catalina tilts her head. ‘Maria and I used to sit like this when we shared a flat. When one of us couldn’t sleep, we’d go out and sit in the kitchen and half the time, when I went down, she’d be there already. Or vice versa.’

‘Like now?’

‘Yes. Just like now.’

‘Did you have biscuits too?’

Catalina shakes her head. ‘We were poor students mija, we were usually saving our pennies for alch- for other things.’ She smiles and puts her hand over Cathy’s on the table. ‘The biscuits- that’s just us.’

Cathy’s about to ask if the chamomile tea was a thing that her Mum and Catalina used to have together (and to perhaps test the waters to see if perhaps Catalina could be persuaded to let hot chocolate with cream become THEIR thing)- when Catalina takes hold of her hand properly and frowns.

‘Oh mija, you’re frozen!’

‘Not really-’ She IS a bit cold but it’s not THAT bad.

‘You’re shivering-’

‘I’m ok-’ She doesn’t want Catalina to just send her back to bed so she tries to sound as convincing as she can but Catalina just raises an eyebrow and doesn’t look convinced: she starts to clear the mugs and puts the lid back on the biscuits.

‘Honestly, I’m not cold!’

(She doesn’t really want to go back to her own bed, in the dark where the Lonely Sad feeling is waiting for her.)

Catalina laughs at that. ‘You’re shivering-’

‘I’m still not cold!’

Catalina nods and switches off the kitchen light. ‘Ok querida, but let’s get you all tucked up again anyway. It’s late and you’ve got school tomorrow.’

She can’t really argue with that.

A couple of steps down the hall, Catalina glances back to where Cathy is lagging reluctantly a couple of steps behind her and pauses.

‘Want to come and keep me company tonight mija?’

Cathy nods. She suspects it’ll be harder for the lonely feeling to catch her if she isn’t all by herself.

‘Ok. Don’t forget Tarkar.’

(As if she  _ would. _ )

*

It turns out that even in Catalina’s bed, it’s hard to turn her mind off. She can’t get comfortable- she tries one position and then another and after a while, Catalina turns the light bedside lamp on.

Cathy freezes, half turned onto her side, wondering if Catalina is going to send her back to bed after all...but instead, she just props herself up against her pillows.

‘Still can’t sleep, mija?’

She shakes her head.

‘Why don’t you run along to your room and-’

‘I’m sorry, I’ll stay still!’ She’ll stay still as a statue if she doesn’t have to go and sleep alone- she really, really doesn’t want to have to go and be by herself again, she even grips onto the duvet extra tightly. ‘Please don’t make me go back-’

Catalina looks a bit confused. ‘I’m not sending you back querida.’

‘You’re not?’

‘No, I was going to suggest you go and fetch a book and I’ll read you another chapter. It might help you get settled.’

That’s an excellent idea but Catalina annoyingly vetoes her first suggestion of another chapter of Little Women- ‘We’re coming up to a sad chapter mija, and the point of this is to help you sleep, not traumatise you…’- and her second suggestion of Coraline is met with an even more emphatic ‘Absolutely not.’ 

‘But why?’

‘Because Coraline is horrifying mija.’

She’s going to argue- Catalina BROUGHT her Coraline in the first place and maybe it IS scary, but it’s also REALLY good (she’s definitely going to include button-eyes in her next sleepover-horror-story)- but then Catalina suggests The Borrowers and it’s a good idea, so she agrees.

‘Under the clock, below the wainscot, was a hole…’

Tucked under Catalina’s arm, with Tarkar squashed between them and the edge of the duvet pulled up over her nose, the Lonely feeling finally starts to properly recede.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is....still slightly more angsty than I intended! i'm afraid you all must be resigned to the fact that I'm going to be harping on this storyline for a couple more chapters....sorry!  
> I do hope this one isn't too boring though- god knows how i stretched about 40 minutes over ten pages!!!  
> Thank you for the lovely lovely comments as ever- you're all so very lovely and encouraging!

She dreams of being lost in a crowd of people- she’s pushing through a sea of legs, having to dodge around carelessly swung hand bags and gesticulating arms. 

She knows somehow that she’s only JUST lost sight of Catalina- or maybe it’s Mum, she can’t be sure, because whoever it is is walking with long, quick steps and moving through the crowd like water whereas Cathy keeps on getting snagged on people and having to stop and edge around them. 

They’re walking like they’re nearly hurrying- as if they don’t even know that Cathy is just behind them and trying desperately to keep up, or worse, as if they do and don’t care, as if they’re perhaps even walking that little bit quicker in the hope that maybe if they do it for long enough, she just won’t be able to keep up and get left behind entirely.

It’s a _ horrible _ thought- she knows that she has to catch up to them so that they’ll look at her and make it not-true, but every time she’s  _ almost _ close enough to grab hold of the hem of their coat, every time she stretches out a hand, it flicks away, just out of reach, and she’s left clutching the empty air. 

She wants to call out, to MAKE them hear her and stop, but it’s not easy- she tries calling for Mum and then, when that doesn’t work, for Catalina- but whoever she is chasing after doesn’t react to either name. 

Calling out is hard too- she’s out of breath from running and the buzz of the crowd is noisy enough that she can only barely hear herself as it is- but she keeps trying, calling for first one and then the other, until she suddenly wonders if maybe that’s making it worse.

Maybe Catalina is cross that she called her Mum? Maybe Mum is cross that she called for Catalina as well as her? 

She can’t stop trying though- she’s calling out to them as if she’s drowning, as if she’s sinking, and although she knows that really making such a fuss in public should really lead to lots of people looking over and tutting and shaking their heads, no one even _ looks _ at her.

It’s as if she’s invisible, and that’s the worst thing ever because if these people can’t see her and Catalina or Mum (Catalina and Mum?) won’t see her, then that means nobody is looking out for her at all and she’s all alone, all alone, not wanted by anyone-

Then suddenly, rather than fighting through crowds, she’s in bed, Catalina’s duvet all piled over her, and rather than being in a sea of people, she’s alone. 

Just a dream….but her throat hurts as if she’s been trying to cry out in her sleep, her chest is aching as if she’s been running, and her face is wet with tears. Just a dream….except the horrible feeling of loneliness and panic is still there, just as strong as before, and the sobs keep rising up and bursting out of her even when she tries her best to stop.

‘Mija? Oh querida, are you alright?’ Catalina bursts into the room, half dressed and her hair all wild. ‘Did you have a bad dream?’

Cathy manages a nod. ‘I- I was- you- and Mum- and-’

‘Oh pobrecita, it’s alright, everything is ok, todo esta bien, pobre cosita-’ Catalina murmurs in a soothing jumble of Spanish and English as she scoops Cathy out of the bed and then fishes out Tarkar from under the covers too. Cathy lets him fall back to the duvet- she’s clinging onto Catalina’s shirt too tightly to have a hand free. Being held like this is helping (a  _ bit _ ) with the horrible dream-feeling, but it’s also somehow not  _ enough.  _ It’s like trying to melt an iceberg with just a very tiny candle of warmth.

‘I- You- You both kept- you were going too  _ fast- _ ’

It’s such an immense relief to have the real Catalina back (a Catalina who isn’t running away from her) and to be held safe and close rather than being ignored that it makes the tears come faster. She can’t explain the dream properly, even though she’s doing her best- but Catalina nods like she understands and rocks her back and forth.

‘It’s all over now, it’s all alright, just a bad dream-’

‘I kept trying to-  _ Y- you left me behind-’ _

‘I’m so sorry mija but I’ve got you now, I’ve got you safe-’

Eventually her breathing goes back to normal and the dream starts to fade a little bit, as minute by minute, morning and awakeness take over and she’s able to loosen her grip on Catalina’s shirt- the material is creased, she’s been holding it so tightly- and to start to think about things other than the dream, like how her nose is running and her mouth feels all dry. 

Catalina takes a handful of tissues from the bedside table and gently wipes her face.

‘Are you feeling better now mija?’

She nods, even though her eyes feel sore and she’s cried a damp patch onto Catalina’s silky work blouse.

‘Sorry I messed up your shirt.’

Catalina cuddles her closer. ‘It’s alright querida, it doesn’t matter-’

‘But I got it all wet-’

‘Well it needed a wash anyway.’

She’s confused for a moment and then Catalina laughs and she realises it was a joke. Which means she can’t really be cross at all.

(It’s a relief. She’s had enough of being in trouble.)

*

It’s nearly time to be up for school anyway so they go into the kitchen for breakfast. She isn’t really hungry though, and it’s not even because she got to have a biscuit last night.

There’s an anxious squeezing in her tummy that won’t go away that makes her not want to eat and although Catalina had kept saying the night before that she’d feel better after a good night's sleep, she  _ doesn’t. _

Everything still feels mixed up and not quite right- or maybe it’s her that’s wrong. Even though she KNOWS she isn’t in trouble, that the day before was a big misunderstanding, that everything is completely alright, she doesn’t FEEL like it is. 

Catalina starts scrambling eggs into a big frying pan and it makes her think not about breakfast but about the little baby chicks and how strange it must feel, to go from being all warm and safe and protected in a nice shell to being suddenly out in the big, loud, bright scary world with nothing but little tiny feathers for protection. 

(She thinks she can understand how the little chicks must feel.)

As she scrambles, Catalina asks if she wants to talk about the dream. She doesn’t really know if she does or not, but she tells Catalina about it anyway to see if it’ll help her feel better and Catalina hums sympathetically and says it sounds dreadful and what a horrible way to wake up it must have been and that of course it was just a dream and that in real life, of course nobody would ever want to leave her behind or lose her, that Catalina herself would never dream of doing such a thing and that her Mum never would either.

It’s true- but it makes her pause for a moment too. 

Of course it’s true that her Mum isn’t trying to leave her behind. Because Mum can’t leave her behind any more. 

She can’t do anything at all. 

Because she’s dead.

It also occurs to her that the dream- as horrible as it was, as scary as it was- was at least the closest she’s ever going to come to spending time with Mum again. 

‘Mija-’ Catalina hurriedly leaves the eggs and comes to crouch by her chair. ‘Are you crying? What’s the matter?’

She feels like such a baby to be crying AGAIN but she can’t help it- she’s known that she doesn’t have parents anymore for months and months but somehow it also feels like she hasn’t really KNOWN what that meant until now.

She’ll NEVER see Mum or Dad again, not ever, not unless she dreams them, and what if she never dreams nice things about them again, or what if she never dreams about them again, full stop?

She’s too upset to even try to explain so she doesn’t- and then she sees the clock on the wall as Catalina hastily disentangles herself to dash across the room to turn off the heat under the smoking, sizzling eggs. 

It makes her feel even worse because now they’re LATE and that means she’s going to be late for school and she’ll surely be in trouble and what if that means that Catalina doesn’t have time to explain about the homework she hasn’t done and she’s going to have to go to school with her hair all messy because there isn’t time for Catalina to fix it and everyone will see she’s been crying and think she’s a baby and they already think she can’t swim-

She tries to choke back her tears enough to explain to Catalina that they’re going to be late, that she needs to go and put on her uniform so they can leave, but Catalina just shakes her head and tells her not to worry about it,  _ it doesn’t matter mija, it doesn’t matter- _ which means Catalina clearly doesn’t understand AT ALL and that makes it  _ worse _ .

‘I need my shoes-’

‘No you don’t querida-’

‘I do, I do- let me go!’

It’s odd- she’s not  _ not _ thinking about what she’s just realised, about not seeing Mum and Dad again...it’s more like, for some reason, going to school suddenly feels far more important. Which is strange because she knows that it ISN’T, it’s just….somehow, if she’s late for school, then everything will be even  _ worse _ . 

She can’t control whether she sees Mum and Dad again, she can’t control her dreams, she knows she can’t- but she can at least go to school on time, that’s one thing-  _ the only thing _ \- that she CAN do.

Except she CAN’T, because Catalina isn’t  _ letting  _ her.

‘You need to calm down first mija, just calm down and then we can talk and-’

She’s crying and trying to fight against Catalina’s arms around her, because she has to get ready, she HAS to go to school- and after a little bit of struggle, Catalina presses her firmly down into one of the kitchen chairs.

‘Mija, you need to calm down NOW, ok?’

Her voice is loud enough that Cathy can’t ignore it; she fidgets miserably in the chair and kicks her feet against the rungs but she doesn’t dare get up again. She’s still crying a bit.

Catalina waits a moment and then nods.

‘Good. Now I need to make two phone calls- they’re very, very important so I need you to stay sitting quietly until I’m done, ok?’

‘Y-yes.’ She sounds so urgent that it’s easier to agree.

‘Good girl.’ Catalina crouches in front of her, kisses her forehead and gives her some more tissues. ‘You’re not in trouble mija, ok? I just need to make these calls and you need to calm down, and I think just sitting quietly for a moment will help you do that. Once they’re done, we’ll have a talk.’

‘But I still need to-’

‘We’ll talk about it in a minute, I promise.’

Catalina takes her phone and goes into the hall- Cathy wriggles in the chair and tries to clean her face on the damp sleeve of her pajama top. 

She can bits of the conversation from the hall: Catalina’s talking about sick days and unpaid overtime and self certification, telling someone that she’s sorry but she can’t help it, and she’ll speak to them tomorrow. 

Cathy wonders for a moment if Catalina is calling someone about HER- maybe telling the social worker that she’s being naughty, maybe calling the teacher because they’re going to be late- but she doesn’t hear her name once.

She isn’t saying Cathy’s name but Catalina sounds annoyed- there’s the sound of her doing deep calming breaths in the corridor-  _ in one, two, three, out one, two, three _ \- and she finds herself copying, matching her breathing to Catalina’s.

The urgent, panicky fighty feeling starts to fade away.

Now she’s just anxious. 

She really, really doesn’t want to be late, she doesn’t want to be in trouble again but it seems like getting into trouble and getting things wrong is all that she CAN do lately.

The second phone call sounds less stressful than the first- but Catalina isn’t raising her voice so it’s harder to hear what she’s saying. She catches the words ‘fragile’ and ‘trauma’, ‘very tearful and anxious’, ‘not at all herself’ and ‘absolutely not fit for school’ and then something about ‘putting it down as a sick day for the form’, whatever that means, and then ‘Thank you- I’ll tell her.’

She’s just contemplating getting up to go closer to the door to hear better when Catalina comes back in and says that they should have a little talk.

‘Can I get ready for school first?’

‘Afterwards mija.’

‘What about breakfast?’

‘We’ll have breakfast after too.’

She considers telling Catalina that she’s hungry NOW- but she isn’t, not really, so she lets Catalina guide her into the living room and into the big chair, which is nice because now she’s starting to get shivery in just her pajamas and Catalina’s lap is very warm.

There’s a little silence.

‘Do you remember when you broke your arm, mija?’

This is not what she’d been expected- she’s been expecting a telling off for having a tantrum.

‘Yes.’ Of course she remembers. It was all VERY exciting. ‘I got a cast. And I got to have an ice lolly from the hospital shop but it melted before Daddy could bring it to the waiting room and the nurse told him off for making a mess.’

Catalina smiles. ‘And when you broke your arm….did it get better right away? Could you use your arm like normal the next day?’

‘No.’ She’s not sure why Catalina’s asking- everyone knows you can’t do anything with a broken arm and she’d had to have help to get dressed until it healed because even buttons turned out to be hard with one hand, and she’d even had to learn to tie her shoelaces all over again too and Anne had had to help her if they came undone in the playground for a while.

‘And...what do you think would have happened if you HAD just tried to keep using your arm right away?’

‘I don’t know….’ She scrunches up her face to think. ‘It….would have hurt?’

‘Yes. What else?’

She shakes her head.

‘It would have gotten worse, mija. It wouldn’t have just stayed the same sort of break- it would have made it even worse and it would have taken MUCH longer to heal.’

This makes sense; she nods. Still, she can’t quite work out WHY Catalina is still talking about her arm when it happened so very long ago.

‘Are you wondering why I’m talking about your arm now, after everything?’

Can Catalina read her mind? She thinks sometimes she must be able to.

‘It’s because I think that….this is a bit like when you broke your arm.’

She twists round to look at Catalina properly. ‘How is it like that? I haven’t broken anything.’

‘No mija. But you’ve been hurt, all the same. What happened yesterday-’

She opens her mouth to say that Catalina’s wrong, of course she hasn’t been hurt, she’d remember if she’d fallen over or been hit- and then she wonders if maybe Catalina’s right, if maybe the difference is that this time, the hurt is somewhere you can’t see.

‘-and losing your Mummy and Daddy, too.’

‘That wasn’t yesterday though.’

‘I know mija but….I think all of that must be quite painful. Even if it’s not a physical pain.’

That  _ is _ true. ‘It  _ does  _ hurt.’

‘I’m sure it does querida.’

‘In my heart. And my tummy. Like being ill, except you can’t get better from it.’

‘Not entirely better, no.’ Catalina takes a deep breath. ‘You can….start to heal though.’

‘Like forgetting?’ She doesn’t WANT to heal if that means forgetting but Catalina shakes her head emphatically before she can feel indignant.

‘No mija, absolutely not like forgetting. You’ll always remember them and that’s a  _ good  _ thing.’ She pauses. ‘Healing is more like….finding a way to deal with the sadness while also letting yourself be happy for other things. Does that make sense?’

‘I think so.’ She wonders if it’s something like how she was able to think about how her arm hurt AND about how she was excited to get a Fab ice lolly, both at once. How she can miss Mum every day but still be glad that Catalina is still around too.

‘Good.’ Catalina nods and then looks at her seriously. ‘Now like with your arm, healing and feeling better is going to take time, ok? It’s not all at once.’

‘I know. Everything takes time and you don’t get better all at once and everyone has good days and bad days and that’s ok.’ She thinks she remembers all of it, all of the things Catalina keeps reminding her of, the things she says on the days when things feel extra hard and sad and scary.

Catalina nods and smiles. ‘Well remembered. Now, with your arm- you know how you needed to keep it still to let it heal?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s like that with healing from this sort of pain too.’

‘I need to keep still?’ She wonders if this is Catalina’s way of telling her that she’s got to stay in her room as punishment.

‘Sort of….sometimes to help you heal, you need….not exactly staying still, but some peace and some quiet time to think and rest, so that you can start to feel better. Does that make sense?’

‘Yes….’

‘Good.’ Catalina takes hold of one of her hands. ‘Mija, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to school today-’

‘What? Why?’

‘-because I think you need a day just to rest and relax and not to have to worry about anything, even little things like schoolwork.’ 

‘But-’

Catalina talks over her and then keeps talking. ‘I think you’ve had to have a couple of days of being very, very worried and anxious, and I think that’s why you’re having trouble sleeping, why you’re having bad dreams and not eating properly. I think it’s why everything is feeling more upsetting than normal. I think if you have a nice quiet day at home, you’ll start to feel a lot better, more quickly than if you just kept going on like normal.’

She wants to argue- she NEEDS to go to school and they’ve heard lots and lots of times about how bad it is to take time off school if you’re not really ill and how it All Adds Up and means you might fail tests later because you’ve missed out on things- but there’s also a little bit of her that thinks that staying at home sounds very, very good.

She won’t have to answer questions about her red eyes for one thing, or worry about her brain not working over sums. She won’t have to worry about her missing homework, or wonder whether or not Catalina will be there to pick her up at the end of the day or anything at all.

Then something else occurs to her and she sits up so fast she nearly falls off Catalina’s lap. ‘Does that mean I have to stay at home all by myself?’

It’s funny-she’s thought lots and lots about how exciting it would be to get to stay at home all by herself like a big girl, like a grown up, and she’s tried to convince Catalina once or twice that she’s definitely old enough to stay alone when Catalina goes out to the shops or the bank….but now, somehow, the thought of Catalina going to work and leaving her behind makes her stomach clench tight like a fist.

What if there are burglars? What if there’s a fire? What if something happens to Catalina on the way to to work and she never comes back and-

‘Querida,  _ of course _ I wouldn’t leave you home by yourself!’ Catalina sounds so shocked at the idea that she’s able to relax again. ‘I’ve already called my work to tell them that you’re poorly and that I’m going to be staying at home to look after you, and I’ve called your school to explain too.’

‘What did you say?’

‘That you weren’t feeling very well and that you needed a nice quiet day at home to get better.’ She wonders if Catalina is telling her the whole truth- if she IS, then that means she isn’t telling the school the whole truth and she wonders if she should ask why lying is bad when it’s her but completely fine when it’s just ABOUT her. ‘Miss Astley says that she hopes you feel better soon and that they’ll all miss you today.’

It’s nice to hear- maybe her teacher hasn’t entirely stopped liking her, even if she is no longer ‘one of the children to be trusted’. 

She does have to check though. ‘Will I fail my exams because I missed a day of school when I wasn’t sick?’

Catalina shakes her head. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I just do. Mija, no one failed anything because of one day. Whatever gave you that idea?’

‘They told us in assembly.’

‘Mija, how many times must I tell you that not everything everyone tells you in assembly is true?’

(It’s true they’ve had this conversation before, and it’s thanks to Catalina that Cathy knows what school  _ doesn’t _ seem to know, that it IS ok to be sad sometimes, even if the song says that you should just Count Your Blessings instead, and that it IS ok to not want to finish your school lunch if you’re full and that you won’t be hurting the Poor Starving Children In Africa, and that it’s even ok to hit people sometimes in VERY extreme circumstances…)

‘But what if-’

‘Listen mija.’ Catalina says it firmly but gently too. ‘If when you go back tomorrow, you feel like you’re behind and you’re worried you’ve missed out, then I’ll have a chat with your teacher and find out what you missed and we’ll get through it over the weekend, ok? But honestly, I don’t think you’ll notice a difference.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positively, absolutely sure.’ Catalina crooks her little finger and Cathy’s mouth drops open that Catalina even knows that that sort of unbreakable promise exists because that’s meant to be her and Anne’s special thing. 

She decides to ask about it later though, and links her own small finger with Catalina’s bigger one.

‘I promise I won’t let you won’t fall behind because of staying home today. Or ever. Ok?’

‘Ok.’

‘Do you understand why you’re staying at home today? Do you want to ask any more questions?’

‘Yes and no.’

‘Yes you understand and no you don’t have any questions?’

She nods.

‘Alright. Let me know if you think of any though, ok?’

‘Ok I will.’

‘Good girl.’ She kisses Cathy’s forehead again and holds onto her tightly for a moment and then lets go. ‘Now.’ Catalina glances at the clock. ‘How about we both get changed into something more comfortable and then have some breakfast? Do you think you could manage some?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I think so-’

Cathy waits for a moment, to feel the familiar sick-anxious feeling in her stomach that’s been there for the last few days….but surprisingly, it’s gone. It’s like magic.

She thinks she probably  _ could _ manage some breakfast after all.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So absolute ABJECT apologies for how long this damn chapter has taken, everyone! I'm SO sorry- such a delay is very unfair when you've all left such kind, lovely comments and been so very sweet (I've seen the super kind mentions on tumblr too and oh goodness they made me nearly tear up!), it's just.....been sort of gestating. The main bit of the chapter has been just sitting in a word doc for ages bc it didn't feel quote READY to be posted...but I'm also sort of glad i did wait because I made some last minute additions and now I'm happier with it.  
> There is also more of their day off planned, so there will be fluff for a little while I think before I pile back the angst...
> 
> I do hope you enjoy!
> 
> Anyone interested in the story of the willow pattern plate-it's available online, although sadly it's NOT as I was taught to think an actual old Chinese legend, it was apparently made up to sell plates. Cathy's story I'll include in the notes of the next chapter if people want to hear it.

When she comes back into the kitchen, dressed, Catalina has already switched her smart work clothes for her soft, comfy weekend jeans and big fluffy cardigan. She’s scraping the remains of the eggs into the foodwaste bin.

‘Is there anything in particular you’d like for breakfast mija?’

This is special because she doesn’t usually get asked what she’d like for breakfast, unless it’s a question of whether she’d prefer cornflakes or cocoa pops (as if anyone anywhere ever has picked cornflakes when given the choice, and she’s made Catalina aware of this many,  _ many  _ times) or if she’d rather have toast than cereal.

She shakes her head- not because she doesn’t want  _ any _ breakfast but because she suddenly can’t think of  _ any _ food (not even breakfast food, just any food at all). 

(It’s like when grown ups who don’t know her try to be friendly and they ask her what she likes to read and suddenly the only books she can remember ever having read before are either books she  _ hated _ , like Watership Down- she’s only still a very tiny bit wary of rabbits now- or boring baby books like the Rainbow Magic fairy books, and she has to think about it so hard the grown ups smile goes into a stretch and they start to look like they wished they hadn’t asked.)

Catalina looks concerned; her forehead goes all creasy-worried.

‘You barely ate anything yesterday or the day before that querida…’

It’s true but she doesn’t KNOW what she wants, and she’s starting to feel anxious about it (because if she can’t even pick what she wants for breakfast, then how will she manage  _ anything  _ by herself?).

‘I can’t  _ choose- _ ’

It’s very nearly a wail but has the opposite effect on Catalina: she stops looking all frowny and worried.

‘Oh thank goodness!’

Cathy is confused by this but Catalina smiles and looks very relieved.

‘I was worried you weren’t eating because… Well, never mind why I was worried. It’s ok mija, you don’t have to pick. It sounds like it’s a good time to introduce you to The Test.’ She says it like there’s a capital T.

‘What’s The Test?’

‘It’s a thing your Mum and I came up with, when we couldn’t decide what we wanted to eat. Neither of us ever knew what we wanted either.’ She sits down at the table and Cathy climbs up onto the chair next to her.

‘Now, you have to answer as quickly as possible, ok? The first answer that comes into your head.’

Cathy nods. This seems like a very serious way of choosing breakfast- but it’s also sort of nice to be serious about something that doesn’t really matter, when they’ve been having all sorts of Serious Talks about Serious Things lately.

‘Ok, ready?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sweet breakfast or savoury breakfast?’

‘Sweet.’

Catalina’s words and her reply are so quick they’re like the rattle of a train.

‘Hot or something cold?’

‘Hot.’

‘Bowl or plate?’

‘Plate.’

‘Excellent.’

‘Did I do it right?’

‘You did excellently mija, you’re a natural- Maria would be very pleased. Now-’ Catalina goes to the cupboard and starts to move things around, then taps a finger to her lips. ‘I don’t think we’ve got much in the way of pancake toppings- but how about French Toast?’

‘What’s French Toast?’

‘Eggy bread, but sweet. It’s got cinnamon in- I think you’ll like it.’

French Toast sounds like a good idea. 

*

She feels funny, she realises, as she watches Catalina take milk and bread and the last of the eggs out of the fridge and cupboards and put them on the countertop.

She feels better than she did, but still a bit shaky- a bit of her wants to run across the kitchen so she can hold onto the edge of Catalina’s cardigan while she gets things ready, and another bit of her (the bit that’s nearly eight, nearly a grown up) feels oddly embarrassed about it, as if Catalina or anybody else might be able to see inside her head and laugh at her babyish impulse.

She feels better- but still small and a bit pathetic too. She wants to stay at home, but she also doesn’t really  _ like _ that she wants to- it makes her feel young and silly, like she’s Kitty clinging onto Mary or Jane’s skirt because she’s afraid of being left alone in Reception.

She’s NOT Kitty- she’s big and grown up and clever and she  _ likes _ school- but now it sort of feels as if the last few days have shrunk her, rubbed away the big, brave, grown up side of her and left her little and scared and she doesn’t LIKE it, she doesn’t like it at all-

‘Come here mija-’

Catalina smiles at her from the other side of the kitchen and holds out an arm, waving Cathy over to her side, and although a bit of her wonders if she shouldn’t (because maybe Catalina is only doing it because she’s somehow ready Cathy’s mind and picked up all the sad scared silliness), she pads over anyway (she can’t resist) and leans against her godmother and breathes in the familiar safe smell- faint perfume and fabric softener.

Catalina’s arm tightens around her for a moment and then withdraws.

‘Want to help, miija?’

She nods.

‘Excellent.’ Catalina starts looking around for a job for her like usual- and then stops and puts her head on her side like she’s considering.

For a moment, Cathy is worried that Catalina is actually deciding that maybe there ISN’T anything she can do to help after all (maybe she’s thinking she’s actually too much of a baby today to do a grown up thing like cooking) but what she actually says is: ‘You know, I think you’re probably big enough to do most of this yourself…’

‘Am I?’ She doesn’t  _ feel  _ very big.

‘I think so mija.’

She pokes the bread through the bag, feeling it’s spongey softness under her fingertips, the way it springs back up however hard she pokes, and doesn’t answer.

‘Don’t do that to the bread mija.’

She stops; Catalina waits for a moment.

‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to though. It’s entirely up to you.’

She isn’t sure- but Catalina doesn’t look annoyed that she still can’t make up her mind.

‘Shall we see? If you want to stop, then I can take over. Alright mija? How about that?’

She nods, only a little bit hesitant. She’s never done a WHOLE cooking project by herself before- she’s helped but that’s it- and right now, she doesn’t feel big enough for anything much (especially since she can’t even manage going to school)...but Catalina is smiling at her like she really means it, as if she’s talking to someone who hasn’t spent half the morning crying and feeling sick and scared….so she nods back and Catalina beams as if just by agreeing, Cathy has done something wonderful.

‘It’s good to know how to cook- you might as well start early…’

‘Mummy used to say that too.’

‘I’m sure she did mija- Maria was an excellent cook.’

‘We used to make cakes for the bake sale at nursery and for school.’ She remembers her Mum dabbing flour on her nose to make her laugh, her hands guiding the wooden spoon heaped with cake batter into the cupcake cases, the taste of the uncooked mixture, running her finger around the rim of the mixing bowl…

‘Did she ever tell you, she taught me how to cook?’

‘ _ Really _ ?’ It’s funny to imagine Catalina having to be taught things, when she seems to know everything now, from what makes the winter cold and the summer hot, to how you can use nail varnish to stop a hole in your tights from getting bigger.

‘Oh yes, I was hopeless in the kitchen when we first met.’

‘But now you don’t burn things hardly at all-’

‘Thank you mija!’ Catalina smiles. ‘I like to think I’ve improved in the last twenty years… I already knew some recipes, of course- Madre wouldn’t have let me go away without knowing anything- but I was always so anxious that I was doing it wrong…. Probably because she would always point out EXACTLY what I was doing wrong whenever I practised. So I hated it. I had no idea how to improvise.’

‘What’s improvise?’

‘Making things up. You know, I think you’ll probably end up being good at cooking because of that.’

‘Because I’m good at making things up?’ (She’s not boasting, she  _ is.  _ Inca Princess Burial was three-quarters her idea, after all. Although Anne probably wouldn’t agree if she was asked, but it’s ok because it’s not like Catalina is going to.)

‘Exactly. It’s VERY important to be able to do that, if you want to cook without a recipe book, like Maria could.’

(She quite likes that idea- of being good at something like Mum was, of being like her.)

‘I was always so anxious….whereas Maria was so calm and so good at just….knowing what would taste good. She made me cook with her every night and she wouldn’t let me even look at a recipe book, she said we had to do it all with our senses or it wasn’t proper cooking… She was such a good teacher...’

Catalina’s eyes are very slightly brighter and then she blinks and looks more normal again.

‘Anyway mija….ready to cook?’

‘I think so.’

‘Good. Now first thing we need is the frying pan-’

*

Cooking, it turns out, actually isn’t as hard as it looks.

Catalina has her kneel on a chair pushed up to the kitchen counter and talks her through every step, not even getting annoyed when the insides of the egg Cathy is trying to crack ends up outside of the bowl rather than inside.

‘It’s ok querida, we have plenty more…’ Catalina casts a glance at the egg box. ‘Well…..a couple more, anyway. It’s fine, we can go to the supermarket later-’

Before she knows it, Cathy has broken the eggs, poured the milk, added the little pinches of cinnamon and nutmeg and is doing her best to mix them with a fork. Catalina makes it look easy but the fork feels clumsy in her hand when she tries. Every time she looks up though, Catalina is smiling and nodding.

‘Go on mija. You’re doing very well- keep at it and it’ll get easier.’

Catalina does the lighting of the gas herself- which she doesn’t mind too much, she doesn’t like the way the flame whooshes out- but she hands Cathy the spatula.

‘Now when they start to brown, we need to flip them over.’

‘How?’

‘Like this-’

Catalina puts her hands over Cathy’s and shows her how to ease the edge of the spatula underneath the bread, how to gently lift it and turn it over with one quick flip- like pancakes except easier, Cathy thinks, because bread doesn’t flop around in the same way even when it’s eggy.

‘Will you tell me when?’

‘If you haven’t already, then yes. But look, you can also check to see how they’re cooking, see?’ Catalina takes the spatula again to demonstrate and then hands it back. ‘Keep one hand on the pan handle so it can’t be knocked over- that’s very important, ok?’ She makes Cathy practise a few times while she watches and then she nods. ‘Very good. I’m going to wash up- your job is to keep an eye on the toast.’

It feels very grown up to be in charge of breakfast like this and she stares at the slices of bread in the pan as hard as she can, trying not even to blink in case they burn while she’s not looking. She very gently lifts up the edges every couple of seconds to see if they’re cooking and it takes hours and hours and she starts to wonder if maybe she’s done something wrong and they’re going to stay pale forever...but eventually they start to sizzle and brown and, holding her breath and holding tight to the handle of the pan so it can’t be tipped off the stove, Cathy flips them over. She’s holding both the pan and the spatula so hard that her knuckles are white- she lets go and flexes her stiff fingers….and hears clapping just behind her.

Catalina is looking over her shoulder, applauding, beaming. ‘Well done mija. Excellent.’

‘Did you see? They didn’t burn and I turned them without dropping them!’ She’s almost bouncing with excitement- suddenly, she doesn’t feel small and scared and like someone who had to miss school because they can’t even manage to sit in a classroom anymore. She feels big and clever and now she almost wants to go to school just so she can tell Anne and Anna and the others that she can  _ cook.  _ ‘Were you watching?’

Catalina nods. 

‘I was watching the whole time mija, and you did  _ very _ well and they look wonderful! Let’s get the plates.’

*

They use the special plates- the fancy china plates with willow trees and little people walking over a bridge and birds in the sky and a big beautiful house that Catalina says it called a pagoda, that are only used for special occasions.

Catalina says it’s for two reasons- mostly because Cathy did such a good job with the French Toast that it deserves to be eaten off special china, but also because sometimes it’s good to treat yourself, especially when things are hard, and they’ve already had a hard morning and that means they deserve to have a nice rest of the day.

And that makes sense.

(The French Toast is delicious.)

*

‘Catalina?’

‘Yes mija?’

‘Why are there birds on the plate?’

Catalina swipes a bite of toast through a stray bit of cinnamon sugar and smiles. ‘You know the story already- you could probably tell it yourself by now.’

‘I know but it’s not the same as when you tell it.’

Catalina says she can’t argue with that. ‘Tell you what mija… I’ll tell you the story about the birds but then you make one up for me ok? I’ll tell you my story about the birds on the plate, and then you can tell me your story about why there are birds.’

‘I don’t have a story though.’

‘Are you sure? Because I happen to remember a wonderful, terrifying,  _ bone-chilling  _ story about a little attic girl that you told me very recently and I can’t believe that someone as good at making things up as you has only one story….’

Well, when Catalina puts it like that….

‘Ok!’

They shake (slightly sticky) hands on it and Catalina begins.

‘Once upon a time, in a small town very far away, there was a King and his daughter-’

(It’s MUCH better when Catalina tells it.)

When Catalina finishes, she asks if Cathy is ready to tell her own bird story or if they should wait til after the washing up is done to give her time to think but Cathy shakes her head. She really can’t  _ bear _ to wait another moment because she knows now EXACTLY how her story is going to go and it’s so good she has to tell it  _ right now- _

‘Once upon a time, there was a country where everything was  _ blue-’ _

(Catalina looks enthralled already.)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is...not the best chapter ever but i don't think I'll have energy to write for a while so I thought I'd just post this now.
> 
> I actually began writing it before the awfulness happened and editing it was quite poignant: like Cathy, the idea of being able to talk to my own mum properly, to be able to tell her the things I'm proud of and to have her understand, is quite big one now. Perchance I'll do some talking-in-my-head before the month is out.
> 
> The radio show that Cathy and Catalina are listening to is a very excellent series called Cabin Pressure, which I thoroughly recommend to everyone, and the episodes I mention are real too. The otter episode, entitled 'ottery st mary' is my personal favourite and I thought Cathy would appreciate it.
> 
> Oh and credit to remeinhu, for her theory that Catalina would be an elephant if the queens were animals.
> 
> Anyone else have the sylvanian otter family? (Anyone else ask for it, not receive it and spend their childhood bitterly jealous of those who did own it?)
> 
> Feedback appreciated as always my dears- thank you so much for your lovely comments on last chapter!

After breakfast, she isn’t sure what to do next- like she’s playing a part and someone has forgotten to give her the script. It feels wrong to be playing on a school day- there’s a tiny bit of her that expects her teacher to suddenly knock on the door to tell her off for _missing school_ if she does- but Catalina insists that it’s ok.

‘You’re not at home because you’re ill mija. You’re at home because you need to _rest_.’

‘But playing isn’t resting-’

(She knows this because the distinction has been made _quite_ clear to her, by various adults at lots of different times in her life. 

Which is very unfair, because for the most part, grown ups get quite annoyed when she tries to explain similar distinctions back, so while Catalina is allowed to point out that she isn’t resting if she’s got a barbie in her hand, she’s not allowed to point out that scrolling through facebook and doing the crossword isn’t the same thing as doing work, even Catalina _does_ happen to have her laptop open and a pen in her hand at the same time. 

Actually, Mum didn’t used to much like her pointing that out either.)

This time though, Catalina just nods thoughtfully when Cathy says it- she doesn’t look annoyed.

‘It’s not resting _exactly_ ….but it’s restful enough.’

Cathay just stands there and looks at her doubtfully. Catalina smiles.

‘Honestly mija trust me, it’s ok. You can play- or read or draw or even watch television if you _absolutely_ must. Even that Lily Maguire-'

'It's LIZZIE Macguire!' (She's sure Catalina gets it wrong on purpose.)

'Anyway, you can do whatever you want.’

When Cathy still hesitates, Catalina kisses the top of her head.

‘You’re allowed to do nice things, I promise. It’s all part of helping you feel better.’

‘Like medicine?’

‘If you like.’ Catalina goes and sits down, stretching out on the sofa and sighing happily. ‘I’m going to read, I think.’

She fishes around under the sofa for her library book which already has a page folded over more than half way through. The cover is red and pink and on the front, there’s a picture of a woman with long shiny blonde hair, all wrapped up in the arms of a man with so many muscles, he looks like he’d burst right out of his shirts if he wore them.

The men on these book covers never seem to wear shirts though, so it’s ok. Cathy supposes that’s because their muscles are so big and bulgey. She wonders if they ever get cold not wearing shirts- especially when the book covers have snowflakes in the background too.

‘Will you read some of it to me?’ 

(She’s hoping the excitement of the morning will trick Catalina into saying yes, but it doesn’t work.)

‘Not of this book mija- but I’ll read you one of your own books if you like.’

(She always says this.)

‘Why not?’

‘You wouldn’t like it. You can read it when you’re older. If you must.’

(This probably means when Cathy turns 8.)

‘Now, do you want me to read one of your books?’

‘It’s ok.’

(She’s not in the mood for one of her own books. She wants to know what’s so exciting and special about the red-and-pink books- it must be something VERY interesting because Catalina always grabs the books out of her hands quick-quick on the couple of times she’s picked one up. They’re hidden away usually, and that just adds to their specialness.)

‘Can I stay in here?’

‘Of course you can querida. In fact-’ Catalina sits up again. ‘I think this might be a good morning for a reading nest, don’t you think?’

‘Oh YES!’

Reading nests are something they don’t do very often because they Make A Mess and Catalina doesn’t have time to be cleaning up every night- but when they do make a Nest, it’s always great fun.

There’s something about piling up all the pillows and cushions and the spare duvet that feels like camping- and the Nest seems to get bigger every time they make it, because they keep thinking up new things to add to it.

Today, Catalina has the idea of taking the sofa cushions up and making them into a little wall around the edge so they’re enclosed and it’s excellent, definitely the best reading nest yet.

When it’s all made Catalina turns on the radio, and Cathy goes to fetch her two otter dolls-house dolls too, because maybe they’d like to explore the hills and valleys and caves of the Nest.

(She didn’t used to just have two dollshouse otters- there used to be a whole family of them, a mother and a father and little baby otter too, as well as the two child-sized otters. 

But she doesn’t like to play with the family now.

Ever since That Bad Day, having to look at the two-parent perfectness of it has made her feel funny. Now the mother otter and the father otter and the baby otter live right at the very back of her sock drawer, where it’s safe and cozy and absolutely nothing can hurt any of them, the three of them together. 

When she first put them there, three days after moving into the flat when she was still unpacking her toys and deciding what was going to live where, Catalina had found them when she was putting away some clean laundry. She’d put them back into the dollshouse and Cathy had put them right back again the moment she’d noticed.

Catalina has never said anything but now she leaves them where they are.)

Catalina doesn’t say a word about the rest of the family when Cathy brings the two little-girl-otters out into the living room, just turns another page of her book and smiles at something she’s just read.

(They’re definitely both girl otters. Some people make the mistake of thinking one of the child otters is a little boy because they’re wearing shorts and not a little dress- but Cathy knows it’s a girl really. 

Both otters are girls- it’s just like when she’s gone to play with Anne and Anne’s Mum has made her wear a dress rather than comfy weekend clothes, except she’s decided that the girl otter wearing the dress actually prefers it, even if dresses aren’t as good to play proper games in. 

The two otter girls are sisters and they don’t have Mums or Dad’s or Aunts or Uncles or anyone at all,- they just have each other but that’s ok because it means they can go on adventures without anybody worrying about them. 

At least that’s mostly true- they’re mostly just the two of them. She’s started to- very occasionally- include Catalina’s china elephant if she needs an extra character.

It’s a bit silly because it’s too fragile to really be much use in the game, so it doesn’t really really get involved but sometimes it’s nice to know that there’s someone else out there too, and the elephant has a nice look on its face.

The two otters just about fit on it’s back and Catalina doesn’t mind too much as long as she’s gentle with it- _very_ gentle, because it’s her favourite but also she likes it so much, she says that she can see why Cathy does too.

The elephant isn’t good at rough bits of the game- it’s more there if suddenly the carpet looks a bit too bleak and empty and the otter sisters start looking small and lonely.

That’s only very occasionally though- mostly, they have their adventures and everything is just big-exciting, not big-scary.

Sometimes she thinks that this is what it would be like if she and Anne ran away together just the two of them- since after all, she doesn’t have a Mum or a Dad anymore and even though Anne does, she sometimes wishes she didn’t.

They could sleep under hedges and drink out of streams and pick apples from fruit trees to eat and send Jane and Kitty and Catalina postcards from all the exciting places they’d visit so they’d know not to worry.)

After a while, Catalina chuckles and gestures to the radio. 

‘They must have known you were listening querida-’

She hasn’t been listening to the radio really- she doesn’t usually care very much about Catalina’s talky radio programs where people talk in very deep serious voices about all sorts of dull grown up topics- but now she does, and it’s quite funny: not boring people talking about the news but two people arguing about how many otters you could fit on a plane.

She giggles when they suggest putting an otter in the fridge- it’s just such a funny idea, to think of going to the kitchen to get a drink of milk and then finding a whole otter instead.

(She wonders if the otter would mind, and decides it probably wouldn’t. Especially if you left it a nice open tin of tuna for it to nibble at.)

‘Is it a real place?’

‘Where, mija?’

‘The otter place- the place they’re going to in the story-’

‘Ah Ottery St Mary- yes, it is actually.’

‘Is it full of otters?’

‘Sadly no.’

‘What do they have there, if they don’t have otters?’

Catalina shrugs. ‘I don’t think there’s all that much there at all actually.’

‘Can we go there?’

‘On holiday?’

She nods.

‘Maybe. We’ll see. Maybe it’d have to be a sort of drive by visit rather than a holiday- I don’t think it’s even by the seaside so it wouldn’t be a very holiday-ish place.’

(That’s a disappointment. Tarkar would have liked a holiday in a place named after him, she knows he would.)

*

When the episode finishes, she points out to Catalina that that was probably the most otter-ish half hour the flat has ever seen.

‘-and I was playing with otters and wearing my otter t shirt and listening to a thing about otters and talking about an ottery place!’

(Why doesn’t Catalina see how amazing this is?)

Catalina laughs and says she’ll definitely dream of otters tonight- and at first she just thinks that she hopes so because that sounds nice….but then another thought catches hold of her, an amazing amazing thought, and she sits up so fast it makes her head spin because she’s been lying on her tummy for so long.

‘Can you control what you dream?’

‘How do you mean mija?’

‘Can you make yourself dream something?’ She’s almost bouncing with anticipation.

‘I think you can influence your dreams….a bit perhaps. Like watching something scary before bed-’

‘Yes but-’ She doesn’t need to hear Catalina’s views on watching scary things before bed AGAIN. ‘Can you make yourself dream a thing? If you try really, really hard and-’

‘I don’t think so mija.’

‘Oh.’

She’s surprised at how disappointed she feels when it’s an idea she’s only had for a moment- like a balloon with the air suddenly let out and now she’s sinking sadly, flatly back to earth when only seconds before she’d been buoyant with hope. 

‘Oh but you said- you said I’d be making myself dream of otters-’

‘I know mija but I didn’t mean it for sure, I was just…. Oh Cathy-’

She’s SO sad that she doesn’t even realise how miserable it’s made her for a moment until Catalina is on the floor next to her, asking what the matter is. She lets herself be scooped up- it helps a bit.

‘You wanted to make yourself dream something mija?’

She can hardly bear to say it.

‘I- I thought I might to talk to Mummy properly if I made myself dream her but if I can’t, I might not dream her again so that means I can’t ever talk to her again-’

‘Oh querida-’ Catalina waits until she’s quietened down and then pulls back enough to look at her. ‘I’m sorry. You probably will dream of your parents again though- it would be VERY unusual if you didn’t. But I’m sorry that you won’t be able to make them say the things you want them to- you’ll just have to remember all the lovely things they said to you, ok?’

‘I know but-’ She wants Catalina to understand and she doesn’t think she does. ‘I can remember them but what about all the new things I want to say to them? I can’t remember saying that because I HAVEN’T said it yet-’

Catalina looks surprised. ‘Mija, you can talk to your parents whenever you want to, don’t you? You don’t have to be in dream to do it?’

‘How?’

‘Just the way you did in your dream- I know you can’t talk to them in person any more but you can talk to them in your head whenever you want to.’

‘Can I?’ 

‘Of course. Mija, they’re your parents- of course you can still talk to them.’ Catalina looks upset. ‘I’m sorry, I would have told you this much earlier if I’d thought you didn’t know-’

She’d be annoyed at Catalina for not telling her but she has questions to ask first. ‘Do you talk to them?’

‘Sometimes. Especially when something happens that I know Maria would want to know about.’ 

‘Like what?’

‘Oh just this and that. It’s about you quite often actually mija.’

‘Me?’ She wonders what Catalina has been saying- has she been telling her Mum that she lied about the dinner money? Has she been telling her Mum that she’s been naughty or cross?

But Catalina is smiling.

‘Things that I think she’d be proud of- things that I’m proud of too, I tell her in my head what a brave, clever daughter she has.’

‘Can I really tell her things?’

‘Of course mija Whenever you want to.’

‘Oh.’ It’s somehow a liberating idea- she’s never thought of the possibility of being able to tell Mum things ever again, but now that she can, she feels oddly happy, almost excited. ‘Then I’m going to tell her about me making French Toast.’

‘I’m sure she’d be VERY proud of that.’

‘And about how I’ll be able to show everyone in my class how well I can swim next week-’

‘Excellent idea.’

‘And- and that I miss her.’ The thought makes her feel a little tiny bit wobbly for a moment but it’s ok. Maybe things like that always will and that’s just how it is. ‘That I miss her a lot- and that I wish she was here, but also that I like living with you too, so she doesn’t need to worry about me.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be very happy to hear that mija.’

*

Another episode starts playing- there aren’t otters this time, but the story about dropping a sugar brick on a fish is funny to imagine. 

After a while though, it gets harder to concentrate on what the voices are saying: Catalina’s lap is very warm and cozy and the next thing she knows, she’s waking up and the radio is back to being boring grown ups talking and she’s being dislodged as Catalina sits up properly and stretches and yawns, murmuring that she was definitely, absolutely only resting her eyes for five minutes.

Her tummy feels full of butterflies all of a sudden, like when she has to go up to the front at assembly to get a certificate, and it’s funny to think that this is how the idea of talking to Mum makes her feel now, when she used to just be able to talk to her whenever she wanted to, without thinking.

It’s funny- and a bit sad too….but she doesn’t have time to think about it TOO much. She wants to get on with it, after all- she knows what she wants to say now.

She doesn’t know whether or not she should kneel down- like praying at church- but Catalina didn’t say anything about that, so she doesn’t, just thinks the words quietly to herself as she makes her otter sisters climb up a big blue mountain (Catalina’s legs) and then tumble into a cavern when the mountain moves (when Catalina gets up to make a cup of coffee).

_I love you. I’m ok. You don’t need to be worried. I’m learning to cook. I love you. I miss you-_

She goes over and over it in her head like a list while she and the otter sisters traverse the living room and the china elephant watches over them all.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the hiatus everyone! 
> 
> Thank you SO much for all the lovely encouraging kind comments- and thank you for your patience also!  
> It's VERY hard to write right now- so I was thrilled to realise that actually I DID have the mental spoons to write today, and here's a chapter to prove it!

  
  


When she and Anne do nice things for each other, they just do them. Grown ups though, it turns out, do it differently: for grown ups, a nice thing is A Favour and then rather than just thinking about how nice the nice thing is, they have to spend all their time worrying about doing A Favour in return.

(It’s not just Catalina, Cathy knows. It’s all grown ups. It’s like a disease. Like when they got new neighbours who sent them a loaf of banana bread, and Daddy said ‘How Lovely!’ and Mum said ‘How thoughtful!’ and then they had to quickly-quickly make an apple crumble to send over in return, of which Cathy did not get one single solitary slice. 

She’s still a little bit upset about this, if she’s honest with herself.)

Catalina gets a worried crease between her eyes sometimes and Cathy can tell it’s because she’s thinking about repaying A Favour.

Right now, The Favour she needs to repay is for Jane.

It makes her wonder what Favour Jane did for Catalina- saving her cat out of a tree perhaps (even though Catalina doesn’t have a cat) or telling a lie to get her out of trouble like when Anne pretended it was her who let Nibbles the class gerbil escape in Year One….but when she asks, it turns out The Favour was just Jane coming to their house for the social worker visit and that doesn’t make any sense at all because all Jane did was drink some tea and talk a bit and according to Anne, that’s what she does in her own house most evenings too.

(Along with the occasional brief foray into watching tv. Jane likes shows that begin with the words  _ The Great British Something _ , although sometimes if Anne gets out of bed at night and goes back to the living room, there’s another show on tv, with lots of people in bikinis on an island. 

Jane won’t tell her anything about the show except to tell Anne that it’s far too grown up for her to watch and Catalina is no help either when Cathy tries to ask her about it. Anne says that maybe that’s because the pretty bikini people aren’t allowed to leave the island and are there as a punishment and they’re not allowed to watch because it’ll be too scary- and that DOES make sense to Cathy, because according to Anne, it doesn’t look like there’s much food on the island at ALL and what will happen when they all get hungry? 

Anna says that maybe they’ll have to start eating each other, like in the real-life aeroplane crash that her Vati told her about (and that Anna’s Mutti told him off for doing.) 

She and Anne think this sounds like something neither of them _ really _ wants to see- although they’re a bit surprised that Jane DOES.

(Anna says you never really know someone.)

Sometimes Jane does bits of embroidery in the evenings too.

Anne says that her Mum keeps nagging Jane to take photos of for Pinterest and that Jane keeps forgetting  _ accidentally-on-purpose _ and now Anne’s Mum is getting a bit irritated by it because apparently embroidery is _ the next big thing _ . 

Very, VERY occasionally Jane will spend an evening looking through a scrapbook filled with pictures of a younger bouncier looking Jane and a taller dark haired woman, and when she does that her eyes get all shiny especially if Kitty is in the room and she hugs both Anne  _ and _ Kitty extra hard afterwards.

But she doesn't do this very often, says Anne. 

Cathay wonders if it’s like when she and Catalina looked through the photos of her Mum and Dad. She wonders if Jane minds having to look at them by herself, she wonders if Jane minds not having anyone to  _ remember  _ with.)

Cathy doesn’t see why drinking tea in someone else's living room is such a big favour but Catalina just says she’ll understand when she’s older and has to do things like this. Then she thinks for a second and says that it’s like the grown up equivalent (which is a very good word and means  _ the same thing _ ) of having someone hold your hand when you go to the dentist. 

Except that doesn’t make sense because the dentist is at all scary and Cathy has never needed anyone to hold her hand when she goes there (except maybe years and years and YEARS ago) because what’s scary about sitting in a chair and opening wide and then getting a sticker? 

She says as much to Catalina and Catalina pulls a face and pretend-shudders and says that Cathy is MUCH braver than her.

She wonders if maybe Catalina just doesn’t like the dentist because she’s too old to get a sticker anymore.

The whole grown up oddness about favours is why when Catalina gets what sounds like a very panicked phone call from Jane, she doesn’t catch the worried-panickyness from Jane, in the way that grown ups sometimes do (like how Mum used to get voicemails from work that sounded all panicky-cross and that would make her panicky-cross too).

( _ ‘What’s that? Sorry- I can’t- there’s a static- what’s the matter?’ _

_ Catalina is sitting on the arm of the sofa with only one of her shoes on, frowning into the phone because she can’t hear and shaking it a bit, as if THAT’S going to make it work better. _

_ Cathy- both of her shoes on AND her coat AND her hat AND her gloves that don’t have fingers and make her feel like one of the old fortune-telling women that you read about in old picture books- is waiting by the door. She hopes the phonecall will be a quick one- Catalina has been promising for days and days and days to take her for icecream and she’s worried that if the phonecall is too long Catalina might forget. _

_ Actually, it ends up being worse than that. _

_ ‘-it’s an easy mistake to make….No, I understand-’ Catalina’s voice is all calming and soft, very nearly her scaring-away-bad-dreams voice although it isn’t night-time. ‘No, I know, they can be brutal with the last minute-shift changes. It’s terrible, isn’t it?’ _

_ She pauses- Cathy assumes this is to give Jane time to agree that it IS terrible. _

_ ‘And Elizabeth can’t just keep her? I mean, I know you offered to have her while Anne was at kumon but even so-’ There’s another pause and Catalina gives the sort of chuckle that doesn’t sound happy at all. ‘No, no of course not. Of course her acrylics have to come first. I fully agree.’ _

_ (Cathy doesn’t think she really DOES.) _

_ Then her voice changes. ‘She suggested Edmund? After last time? Really?’ _

_ Another pause. _

_ ‘No- I mean, just….I’ve seen the man ONCE. I wouldn’t leave ANY child with him- and what if he’s not in when you take her there? Does she expect you just to leave Kitty on the doorstep?’ _

_ There’s another pause and then Catalina speaks very firmly. _

_ ‘No, I’m absolutely not doing ANYTHING. Honestly. We’re completely free. Totally. And it’s only a few hours- drop her here on your way and then I can bring her back later or you can stop by….No, no honestly, Jane, I INSIST.’ _

_ And just like that, they aren’t going for icecream anymore.) _

When Catalina hangs up, she smiles really big and says that finally she can repay Jane the favour.

‘-and I can stop feeling awful about it, isn’t that lucky mija?’

Cathy doesn’t think that sounds lucky at all: what it sounds like is an awful lot like they WON’T be getting icecream, and she says as much to Catalina, who looks a little bit guilty (but not, Cathy thinks, as guilty as she SHOULD, considering how long she’s been promising.)

‘I’m sorry mija. But Jane really needs us. And it’s nice to be able to help out a friend, isn’t it?’

Cathy considers saying that Jane is  _ Catalina’s _ friend, not hers (because how can a grown up be a friend?), and that she doesn’t see why  _ she _ has to give up  _ her _ icecream treat to help out one of Catalina’s friends- and then she feels a bit mean.

After all, it’s not like Jane HASN’T been very nice to her.

So she doesn’t say that to Catalina. (But she does still feel a bit annoyed about the icecream.)

Catalina’s saying something else, about how they’ll have little Kitty with them for the afternoon and  _ Won’t That Be Nice? _ ’

Cathy isn’t sure. Kitty IS little, too little to be like a proper friend coming to play and it’ll be strange to see her without Anne and what if Kitty wants to play with her special toys or write with her fountain pen and-

But she nods, because she can tell Catalina wants her to.

*

It becomes clear, very quickly when Jane arrives to drop Kitty off that Kitty isn’t at all sure it will be nice either: she hides herself behind Jane’s legs and grips tightly to the hem of Jane’s uniform smock with one hand and onto Pink Kitty with the other and whimpers when Jane has to peel her away.

‘You’re going to have a lovely time sweetheart-’ Jane sounds ready to cry, even as she’s trying to smile. ‘And I’ll be back very soon, I promise.’

Kitty shakes her head.

‘You’re going to be a big brave girl and be very, very good for Aunty Catalina, ok?’

Hearing Jane call Catalina that bothers Cathy, like a prickly tag left in a new piece of clothing.  _ Aunty Catalina? _ She’s never wanted to call Catalina Aunty herself- because she ISN’T her Aunt and so it would be silly….but she doesn’t really like hearing Jane say it to Kitty either. If anyone IS going to call Catalina Aunty, then it’s HER, and she ISN’T.

And Catalina doesn’t even put Jane right- she just smiles and says that she and Cathy are really happy to have Kitty to visit for the afternoon.

‘It will all be ok, you’ll see.’

Cathy isn’t sure if Catalina is saying it to Kitty or to Jane.

‘Are you  _ sure _ you’re ok doing this?’ Jane hoists her bag back onto her shoulder and stands from where she’s been kneeling in front of Kitty. ‘I’m so grateful, I really owe you one-’

(Cathy hopes she and Anne never get this silly. If she has to tell Anne that she  _ owes her one _ every time Anne saves her a seat or lets her share her scented felt pens, they’ll never have time to just be friends.)

‘It’s no trouble at all.’ Catalina puts a hand on Janes back and steers her to the door. ‘The girls can play and you’ll be back before she notices you’ve gone.’

(Cathy decides not to point out that Kitty very much notices Jane has gone- Jane hasn’t even left yet and Kittys eyes are all big and sad.)

She isn’t sure if she likes being one of  _ the girls _ either- not if the other girl is Kitty, anyway.

Kitty, after all, is just a little kid- she can’t even read yet, whereas Cathy is seven-nearly-eight and practically old enough to go to big school (where you wear a tie and get to do interesting things with acid and fire in science lessons rather than just having to learn about the water cycle for the millionth time.)

She doesn’t WANT to be grouped in with Kitty as a  _ little girl _ and she scowls at Catalina’s back and then looks over at Kitty, who’s hunched up on the carpet by the sofa with her arms around herself like she’s one of the sad people who sit on the street, who Catalina sometimes gives her money to put in their caps and whos Anne’s dad says are a ‘blood nuisance’ and a ‘total eyesore’.

Jane leaves, Catalina still assuring her that it will all be fine, and the door closes. It sounds very final.

*

Kitty doesn’t move.

She doesn’t move and she doesn’t talk- she stays all curled up with her eyes very nearly squeezed shut and it looks to Cathy for all the world like Kitty is just trying to wish herself somewhere else, like if she tries hard enough, she can make Jane come back and/or make herself be somewhere else.

Cathy doesn’t really like looking at her.

It’s not because she doesn’t  _ like _ Kitty- she’s little but she’s not as annoying as some little kids can be (like Maggie, who’s the little sister of Tom Wyatt in their class and who follows Anne around the playground whenever she gets the chance because for some reason she thinks Anne is the coolest person in the world just because she can do a french braid.

Cathy doesn’t think being able to do a french braid is all that impressive at all.

And she definitely COULD do a french braid if she wanted to. Honest.)

Kitty is ok to play with when they need her to be an extra person in a game (like a ghost when they play Haunted Murder House, or a dead body when they play Business Woman Detective) but Cathy doesn’t like looking at her now.

It reminds her of a not-all-that-long-ago time, when SHE would have given anything in the whole entire world to be somewhere else. SHE would have quite liked to curl up into a ball and focus every single thought on wanting to change things- except she didn’t. 

She didn’t- because it wouldn’t have made any difference. (And because seven is much too grown up for something like that.)

Really, Kitty’s position is much better than hers. Because Jane IS going to come back. So why is Kitty getting special treatment?

It feels unfair and the unfairness makes her feel ever so slightly cross, and she’s not sure if she’s cross with Kitty for looking for sad when she has to business to, or with Jane for leaving Kitty with them, or with Catalina for agreeing, or even maybe with Mum and Dad for making her feel so sad in the first place.

Catalina tries to explain it to her.

‘Be gentle with her mija, she’s upset.’

‘Why?’

‘She misses Jane.’

‘But Jane’s coming BACK.’

Catalina sighs. ‘I know mija.’ 

They’re in the kitchen and Catalina is pouring cups of orange squash and putting pink wafer biscuits on a plate because she thinks that Kitty might like the pink. (And that’s silly too because there are jammy dodgers in the biscuit tin too and those are obviously the best because you can nibble round the edges and save the little jammy heart til last.)

‘But Kitty still misses her a lot.’

Cathy takes a jammy dodger (even though she doesn’t even want it that much because she SHOULD be having icecream right now) and doesn’t say anything.

Catalina puts the lid back on the tin before she can take a second one.

‘It’s like- remember when I took you to Sunday School mija? You know I was coming back- but you still got upset.’

Catalina even saying this makes Cathy’s cheeks feel hot and embarrassed- she glances at the door, wondering if Kitty can hear. She can’t  _ believe _ that Catalina has brought that up (especially because that was  _ months _ ago and she was YOUNGER then): she hates the thought that Kitty might have heard.

And why wouldn’t she, because when she thinks about it and remembers how scary and horrible it felt to be left in the horrible too-bright Sunday School room with the Fuzzy-Felt bible scenes and colouring in pictures of Noah’s Ark, she FEELS extremely babyish.

‘That’s DIFFERENT.’ She says it extra loudly to make sure Kitty can definitely hear that and Catalina frowns.

‘Well either way mija.’ She turns to face Cathy looking very serious. ‘We’re going to be very, very nice to Kitty to make her feel welcome and help her get used to being here.’

Cathy makes a face. Catalina tells her that she has the choice of making Kitty feel welcome in the living room OR she can do something else in her bedroom by herself- and it’s clear from her tone that she isn’t joking.

Cathy chooses the living room but it’s quite boring making Kitty feel welcome. Catalina has turned the tv to the boring baby program about the pink stripey cat- even though Cathy suggests that maybe Kitty might LIKE Monster High if she gave it a chance and isn’t Catalina always telling her that it’s good to try new things?- and now she’s doing a crossword puzzle.

She’s not trying to make Kitty talk. When Jane left, she knelt down in front of Kitty and talked to her very gently and quietly, about how happy she and Cathy were to have her and Pink Kitty to visit and how there was nothing to be scared of her but that she quite understood that Kitty missed Jane and that she didn’t have to do anything but that she should make sure to let Catalina know if she needed anything or wanted anything and that she wouldn't get into trouble for asking.

(Which again seems silly and pointless because why would Kitty think she would get into trouble for asking for something?) 

Kitty hadn’t replied- and she still hasn’t touched the beaker of juice or the pink biscuits on the plate.

Now Catalina seems mostly focused on her crossword but every so often, she directs a comment at Kitty: sometimes it’s a comment about something in the program and sometimes it’s question, like asking if Kitty would like something else to drink or if she’s seen this episode of Bagpuss before or if she likes watching Bagpuss at home- but she somehow says it in such a way that when Kitty doesn’t answer, the question doesn't hang too heavily and Catalina goes right back to her paper after a moment, as if she doesn’t even mind that Kitty is ignoring her.

Actually, Cathy can remember Catalina doing something sort of the same to her when she first started living here: how words had been too much to manage and how heavy the silence had felt until Catalina started remarking on things like the daisies growing out of the crack in the pavement and the fact that the nicer biscuits with the extra chocolate were on sale and the cloud in the shape of an elephant. 

It hadn’t taken away the sadness and the fear and the feeling of wanting to cry and scream at the same time- but she’d eaten the biscuit and picked a daisy and looked up to see the elephant cloud anyway.

And actually, she can also remember- if she’s honest- being told the same thing, about how asking for something wouldn't get her into trouble. And oddly, it hadn’t seemed like such a silly thing to say back then- it had seemed like something that she was relieved to be told.

She doesn’t like to think too much about Back Then though.

To drown out the unpleasant thoughts, she asks Catalina if she’ll read to her and Catalina says Of Course- but then ruins it completely by saying she thinks it would be nice to read something that they’ll  _ all _ enjoy. Which means something  _ Kitty _ will enjoy.

(Cathy bets Catalina doesn’t want to read Six Dinner Sid any more than she wants to hear it.)

She says she’d rather have no story than something as boring as that and Catalina just shrugs and says Cathy doesn’t have to listen but that she’s going to read it out loud just for herself- and Cathy wonders  _ why _ , when Kitty isn’t even listening….. and then she looks over and realises that Kitty has raised her head a ver,y very tiny bit.

Still, she isn’t interested- and to make it plain JUST how not interested she is, she decides not to go to her bedroom but to stay in the living room to make it really, really clear to everyone.

Catalina reads- and Cathy’s barely even half listening, partly because it’s a babies book but also because the picture she’s trying to draw (her own version of the Willow Pattern Story) isn’t coming out right and none of her blue felt pens are the right sort of blue anyway and the paper is going furry from rubbing it out and she’s trying to decide whether to bother to try again or just give up entirely when Catalina’s voice cuts through.

‘Do you want to see the picture mija?’

She opens her mouth to say that she isn't the littlest bit interested in the picture...when she realises Catalina isn't even talking to her.

(Which is a bit unfair, because maybe she DID want to see the picture and Catalina hasn’t even OFFERED.)

Kitty has uncurled and she’s actually edged her way over to where Catalia is sitting: also on the floor, but not right next to Kitty, over by the bookcase, as if to show that it doesn’t matter whether Kitty comes over or not.

Kitty nods and Catalian smiles and holds the book so she can see and keeps reading while Kitty edges closer and then reaches out a very tentative finger and gently strokes the cat in the picture.

After a few pages, Kitty is sitting right next to Catalina and actually is holding Pink Kitty up so that SHE can see the pictures too, looking a lot less scared- and Catalina is smiling very happily, and she;s also annoyingly getting that soppy look that grown ups get where they think that Kitty is being  _ sweet _ .

This makes Cathy feel odd too- like it’s not fair, like Kitty is cheating. Because she’s seven-nearly-eight and that’s  _ mostly _ just a good thing- it means she can read, that she’s big and grown up and clever.

But it also means she isn’t little. And she isn’t sweet. And there’s no way she can compete with Kitty like that.

(Maybe Catalina would prefer a littler goddaughter.)

That’s not a nice thought at all.

*

  
  
  



	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My GOD it's been a hard month.  
> Thank you for your patience in waiting- I do hope the wait is worth it!
> 
> Thank you again for all of the lovely, lovely comments, they're really so very appreciated!

Catalina looks happy while she reads, as if she’s found the magic trick of making Kitty Not Scared anymore- and then she finishes, and asks Kitty if she’d like to hear another story with an expectant smile- and Kitty just gives a very tiny shake of her head and whispers ‘No thank you very much Aunty Cat-lina’ and Catalina’s face falls.

Cathy feels slightly disappointed in her: she wishes she could have the words to explain to Catalina what grown ups never seem to understand, that sometimes you just want what you want and not what will make things easy. She’s big enough that now she can tell what grownups want her to say yes to- but Kitty isn’t, and that’s not Kitty’s fault.

The oddly protective feeling lasts for half a second- and then she just feels annoyed again. 

Catalina is NOT Kitty’s Aunty at all, and it’s not even as if Kitty calls Jane  _ Aunty _ . 

(She knows from Anne that she’s called Anne’s Mum  _ Mummy _ before but Jane has only ever been  _ Jane _ to both of them. Which is a shame. Cathy thinks she’d rather have Jane as a Mum than Anne’s Mum, although she’d never ever say this to Anne.

She isn’t sure WHY exactly- she isn’t even totally sure Anne would disagree with her- there’s just some little part of her that KNOWS, knows completely and instinctively that actually  _ saying _ it would be horribly, horribly rude and awful, ruder than snatching or pushing or not-sharing or anything else at all.)

Still, she sort of feels like she wouldn’t mind giving one of Kitty’s pigtails a tug. Not that she would (or that Kitty has pigtails) but the  _ feeling _ is there.

Kitty’s all hunched up again, her face mostly buried in Pink Kitty’s fuzzy stomach and Catalina is looking at her all concerned. It’s like Cathy isn’t even there.

‘Catalina?’

‘Yes mija?’ 

She answers right away, which is good, but it isn’t enough somehow. Cathy hesitates. She’s not actually sure what to say now- and she doesn’t feel like explaining that she only asked as a test to see if Catalina would even reply.

‘.....Nothing.’

Catalina nods and looks back at Kitty and Cathy hates it, that Kitty is the focus now and the favourite.

‘Catalina?’

‘What is it?’ There’s no mija this time, she notices.

‘Can I have a drink?’

‘Of course mija, you know you don’t have to ask.’ Catalina looks a bit confused and Cathy knows why- ordinarily, she’d just go and get one for herself. Except now she doesn’t  _ want _ to. 

It’s funny because although she doesn’t like the idea that she’s being grouped in with Kitty- as a little kid- she also doesn’t want to remind everyone and herself of how much older she is, of how much less little-and-cute she is. 

‘I want you to get it!’ She doesn’t  _ quite _ mean it to come out like that- like a whine- but somehow it does and Catalina raises an eyebrow, in the way that she does when Cathy is ‘on thin ice’, as she puts it (which really means she’s within a hair's breadth of being told off).

She remembers to add the  _ please  _ and she wonders if maybe that’ll be enough and Catalina will go to get her her juice- because somehow she feels like that will make things feel better again. 

(Not normal. But better.)

But no.

‘I think you can manage that for yourself mija.’

‘But I don’t want to!’

Catalina tells her that she’s definitely old enough to get her own drink in a tone of voice that is just verging on irritated and Cathy gives up and walks with extra heavy steps to the kitchen. She can see Kitty watching with wide eyes and Catalina telling her that it’s all ok, in the same gentle soothing tone that’s meant to be for Cathy herself.

(Catalina doesn’t sound a BIT irritated now she’s talking to Kitty.)

She doesn’t like this at all- she’s stuck somewhere in the middle: not a grown up, but not little either. It’s the worst of both, she realises- she’s not little enough to be indulged and petted like Kitty but she’s also not big enough to enjoy any of the perks of being a grown up. She can’t, for example, go and get ice cream by herself, even though that’s what she’s MEANT to be doing right now. She can’t go  _ anywhere _ by herself...and she can’t  _ make  _ Kitty leave either.

She’s not thirsty, not even a little bit, so she decides not to bother with getting her own drink at all: instead, she goes into her bedroom and climbs up onto the bed.

She takes Little Women from the bedside table and decides that maybe she can just distract herself until Kitty is gone- but reading it to herself isnt the same as Catalina reading it to her, and it just makes her think about how Catalina only wants to read stupid boring baby books now.

Still, she perseveres, skipping over the hard words, and the story mostly makes sense. She skips the complaining-about-Christmas bit and the giving-away-breakfast bit to find the chapter where Jo rages at Amy for burning her book. 

She thinks about she’d like to climb right into the story and tell Jo that she knows JUST how it feels to have someone younger ruin things for you (and maybe have Jo reassure her that she is utterly right in feeling cross too)...but then she reads too far and everyone is talking about forgiveness and Jo is feeling guilty, and now she imagines Jo shaking her head over how uncharitable she feels towards Kitty.

After all, it’s not as if Kitty has even done anything to her- certainly nothing as bad as burning a book- and yet the hot cross feeling won’t go away. She wonders if that means she’s a bad person. She imagines Jo shaking her head at her and being glad that Cathy isn’t one of her sisters- and that makes her think of Catalina shaking her head and maybe wishing that Cathy wasn’t her goddaughter, and that’s such a scary thought she has to close the book quickly.

There’s a knock on the door and Cathy wonders for a horrible second if Catalina is coming in to tell her off properly for having bad, nasty thoughts- but she looks normal, not at all disappointed-and-sad like Catalina in her head at all. Then she wonders if Catalina’s come to tell her off for stamping (although that feels a bit unfair since it was at least half an hour ago) or maybe even to bring her some juice after all (although that feels a bit unlikely)....but she just tells Cathy to come and keep an eye on Kitty while she takes a phone call.

She can’t really say no.

When Cathy comes into the living room, Kitty is still in her place by the wall- and it’s a bit strange without Catalina there too. She hasn’t properly talked to Kitty since she arrived- but then, she’s never really had to talk to Kitty properly ever. Anne is always there as a buffer and she’s mostly looked on Kitty as an extension of Anne- the way that you can get a Barbie with a Shelley doll attached sometimes (although Shelley dolls don’t stop you going out for ice cream or steal your godmother, so a bit different too.)

On her own, it’s a bit uncomfortable. Cathy doesn’t really know what to say and Kitty doesn’t look like she wants to say anything at all. She keeps her head down and she doesn’t even LOOK at Cathy.

She actually looks very small and alone all hunched up on the floor- like she’s trying to make herself small to stop them from seeing her, like she’s trying to hide.

Although also, Cathy thinks that if  _ she _ wanted to hide, she’d pick somewhere better than just the floor. She’d go behind a chair or under a table….but then it occurs to her that maybe Kitty  _ would _ like to hide like that, except she doesn't know the flat well enough.

And that’s not her fault.

It occurs to her that while she can’t leave the flat and go somewhere else, neither can Kitty. In fact, it’s worse for her because it’s somewhere new. Kitty can’t leave, she can’t make Jane come and pick her up, she can’t even play because she doesn’t really have any of her things. She just has to wait.

(At least Cathy had her own things, even before Catalina brought back her books.)

She wonders how slowly time passes when you’re too little to tell the time, when you’re little enough that you still sometimes get the numbers mixed up when you count past ten. (This has sometimes worked  _ wonderfully well _ in Anne’s favour when it comes to chocolate button distribution though.)

Looking at Kitty makes her feel sad all over again, but it gives her an idea too. Maybe she CAN make it easier for Kitty to hide- or at least make her more hidden than she is. Maybe then she’ll feel a bit better.

She gathers up the cushions from the sofa and makes a little ring around Kitty.

That does look a bit safer. She knows it could be better though. 

She’s adding the second layer of pillows to the little wall when Kitty uncurls herself enough to look up.

For a few minutes, she just gazes at Cathy silently through wide eyes. 

‘What are you doing?’ It’s almost a whisper.

‘I’m making you a cave.’ Kitty just looks at her. ‘To hide in. So you’ll be safe. It’s ok, it’s only with cushions, it’s not real.’

Kitty nods solemnly, and it occurs to Cathy that this is a good thing, that it’s lucky Kitty hasn’t asked her what there might be to be afraid of.

She’s put the pillows into a loose semi circle around where Kitty sits, but Kitty reaches out and pulls them up against her so that she’s half submerged.

‘Cath-ie?’

‘What?’

‘When is Jane coming back?’

Cathy shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Is she coming back  _ soon _ ?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Cath-ie?’

‘What?’

‘....Pink Kitty doesn’t like it here.’

‘Why not?’

Kitty just looks at her. Cathy thinks about telling Kitty AND Pink Kitty about all the good things that Catalina’s flat has that Jane’s doesn’t….but decides not to, since most of the things she can think of are in her room and she doesn’t really want to take Kitty in there at all.

‘Cath-ie?’

(She can see sort of why Catalina sounded annoyed before.) ‘ _ What?’ _

‘Do you have a cat?’

She’s not sure how this has to do with anything- she shakes her head.

‘I have a cat.’

‘Do you?’ (She knows that’s a lie- neither Kitty or Anne have any pets, because Animals Make A Mess and Anne’s Mum likes her white carpets white  _ thank you very much _ .)

Kitty holds up Pink Kitty. ‘But she doesn’t like it here.’ She pauses. ‘She might like the cave though. Maybe. If it isn’t a scary cave.’

‘It isn’t, it really isn’t.’

She feels like she needs to make this absolutely certain with Kitty- she knows from experience that you can never quite tell when Kitty is going to decide a perfectly good game of Inca Princess Burial or Vampire Witch or even Business Woman Detective is ‘too scary’ and start crying for Jane (or Mary, but Jane is usually quicker to actually respond) to come rescue her.

(She can't imagine how Catalina will react if Kitty tells her that Cathy’s done something to frighten her.)

Kitty looks at the pillows either side of her. ‘It doesn’t have a roof. Caves have roofs.’

Cathy looks too. It’s true actually- it doesn’t look much like a cave at all. ‘Not all caves have roofs.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. I learnt it at school.’

‘When you were in Year One?’

She knows from Anne that Year One is, to Kitty, the absolute pinnacle of education, so she nods. 

‘Cath-ie?’

‘What?’

‘....Pink Kitty would like a cave with a roof please.’

(Well, she can’t exactly say no….)

When Catalina comes back, the cave is looking much more cave-like and Kitty has actually relaxed enough to uncurl herself properly: she makes Pink Kitty explore every edge of the cave, and keeps asking Cathy what animals live in it.

‘Lions?’

‘No’

‘Tigers?’

‘No’

‘Bears?’ (Jane has the Wizard of Oz on dvd and she likes it as much as Kitty and Anne do- Anne says she once joined in when she and Kitty were trying to do the We’re Off To See The Wizard dance along the pavement and that Anne’s Mum rolled her eyes when Kitty told her and said that Jane must have made  _ an utter spectacle of herself. _ )

Cathy hesitates. ‘Maybe a nice one. Like Winnie the Pooh. Or the bear from We’re Going On A Bear Hunt.’

‘....Bear-in-the-Big-Blue-House…’ Kitty whispers, whether to Cathy herself or to Pink Kitty, Cathy can’t tell. (She also resists the urge to point out to Kitty that since the pillow cave is neither blue, nor a house, it’s unlikely to be the home of that  _ particular _ bear.)

‘Cats?’

Cathy’s opening her mouth to say yes (and maybe even to suggest that perhaps otters might even frequent the cave from time to time too) when Catalina comes back, phone in hand.

‘Are you alright girls? What a lovely house!’

For some reason, even though she’s been feeling more normal, Catalina coming back in makes Cathy feel all mixed up again. She doesn’t want to, but she suddenly starts worrying all over again that maybe Catalina is liking Kitty more than her, and on top of that, she doesn’t like being addressed on the same level as Kitty. She’s OLDER.

‘It’s a CAVE!’ It comes out a bit more rudely than she’d meant it (although she is still annoyed too), and Catalina opens her mouth- probably to tell her off, even though it’s terribly unfair when Cathy’s only telling the TRUTH….but as she does, Kitty moves Pink Kitty a little too hard, and a cushion is dislodged.

It falls….and catches the edge of Kitty’s untouched glass of juice, making a sunburst of sticky orange on the carpet.

Everybody freezes- even Cathy, even though it absolutely definitely wasn’t her fault because she wasn’t even near to the pillow cave at all and so definitely shouldn’t be blamed- and for a second everything is silent and still.

Then Kitty makes a choked, frightened little sound and Catalina snaps into action, grabbing kitchen roll and picking up the glass.

‘It’s ok querida, it was an accident, don’t worry-’

Kitty is staring with big big eyes at the mess and she’s squeezing Pink Kitty so hard that Cathy reckons a real cat would have wriggled free long ago.

Catalina blots a handful of paper towels over the carpet and then crouches down in front of Kitty.

‘Kitty? Look at me sweetheart’

After a moment she does and even from where she is Cathy can see her eyes are all shiny with tears- real tears, not the moisture you can make come into your eyes if you hold them really wide open and then blink fast but actual real tears.

(There’s a difference. She and Anne have spent many a happy hour discussing how very useful it would be to be able to make yourself cry on cue and practising but annoyingly neither Catalina nor Jane nor even Mary are ever fooled, no matter how flawless their acting skills.)

‘It’s all alright, I promise you’re not in trouble ok? I’m not  _ at all _ cross with you.’

‘...Sorry Aunty Cat-lina-’ Kitty is looking like she’s expecting something awful to happen- her voice is very, very small.

‘Sweetheart, it’s ok. I know you didn’t mean to and look-’ Catalina blots the carpet a little more and then moves the wad of damp roll to show Kitty where the juice has been soaked up. ‘All better now.’

Cathy sort of wants to point out that really, it ISN’T- the carpet is still sort of orangey- but Kitty is looking a little bit less like she’s going to start crying so she doesn’t.

‘See? No harm done, is there sweetheart?’

Catalina waits- and eventually Kitty gives a very tiny nod and relaxes her grip on Pink Kitty a bit.

‘Will you put those into the sink for me mija?’ Catalina is scooping up Kitty’s untouched but now very soggy pink wafers- she nods to the plate and empty cup and Cathy picks them up, feeling just a little bit resentful all of a sudden. Why does  _ she  _ have to help?

_ ‘I  _ didn’t spill anything…’ She can’t help adding before she goes, and Catalina sits back on her heels for a minute.

‘You haven’t spilled anything  _ today _ mija. But I seem to recall one of us knocking over a bowl of cereal last week and…’

Cathy takes the plate and cup to the kitchen before Catalina can say any more. It’s very unfair.

She DIDN’T spill anything after all and by rights surely it should be Kitty helping?

(It’s also slightly embarrassing to remember that Catalina had reassured her in a similar way to Kitty. Although of course she was  _ younger _ then.)

When she comes back into the living room, Catalina doesn’t even say thank you because she’s still talking to Kitty.

‘-like another biscuit?’

Cathy’s ears prick up.

‘I want another biscuit!’ At least that would be  _ something _ good about the day.

But Catalina turns to her, shaking her head. ‘No mija, you’ve had two already and that’s quite enough. Kitty hasn’t had any at all yet- I was just saying that she might like one now as a reward for being such a big brave girl and not crying over spilled- well, I was going to say spilled milk but spilled orange juice in this case…’

She’s talking to Cathy but she’s looking at Kitty too and when Kitty gives another tiny nod, she smiles.

(It seems especially unfair that Kitty gets a biscuit for spilling her orange squash. Cathy wonders if she’d tipped  _ her  _ drink onto the carpet instead of drinking it up she’d have been allowed another biscuit too.)

Kitty whispers something and Catalina leans in. ‘What was that sweetheart?’

‘....Can I have a pink one please Aunty Cat-lina? Pink Kitty likes pink best’

‘Of course you can.’

Cathy follows Catalina into the kitchen to appeal the injustice of it all but Catalina is annoyingly firm. ‘No mija- oh, but thank you for taking the plate like I asked, good girl.’ Even her smile isn’t enough though- Cathy thinks she deserves the smile AND the biscuit too. ‘You can have another drink though if you like.’

‘’M fine.’

Catalina opens the fridge. ‘That’s a shame- I was just going to open up another bottle of elderflower cordial but it’s not really worth it on my own…’

Cathy considers. Elderflower cordial is a treat drink after all. It would be a shame to waste it...

‘Ok.’ Then- ‘Why isn’t Kitty having any?’ (She wonders if it’s a sort-of punishment for spilling her juice after all.)

‘I don’t think she needs the stress of having to try something new on top of everything right now.’

That doesn’t make sense. ‘But it’s special! Trying new things is nice!’

‘I know mija but she doesn’t know that. She  _ might  _ like elderflower if she tries it, but squash is what she’s used to having. And I want her to feel as comfortable as possible right now, do you see?’

Cathy is about to say that she doesn’t, not really….and then she thinks about how one of the first questions Catalina asked when she first moved in was what she drank at home- not what her favourite treat drink was but what she usually had- and how there has been Ribena in the kitchen cupboards every day ever since.

So maybe she does understand a bit after all.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter quite so soon isn't the norm I know but really, I only cut it onto two because it was getting a bit long and i didn't want people to get bored.
> 
> Thank you so so much for the lovely comments, as ever, and please let me know if you liked it!

Catalina pours out the elderflower while Cathy does her best Orphan Annie sad-stare at the biscuit tin which Catalina steadfastly ignores...but she DOES pour Cathy’s elderflower into one of her own teacups. It’s Cathy’s favourite out of all the not-to-be-used cups because it’s got a beautiful pattern of sunflowers around the outside and one little sunflower right at the bottom like a surprise and she can’t help but feel pleased.

Catalina asks her to take the cups of elderflower through while she makes Kitty another cup of squash and it feels very grown up, sitting on the sofa and sipping her cordial and wondering if Catalina has just fully changed her mind about the fancy cups being only for Special or if this is just a one off….

And then Catalina comes back through. She puts a fresh saucer with a fresh pink wafer on the floor next to Kitty, a dolls saucer with a crumb of pink wafer next to that (she explains that’s for Pink Kitty, if she’d like it) and THEN-

‘My cup!’

Cathy almost drops the sunflower teacup in shock and Catalina winces.

‘Careful mija-’

‘That’s MY cup!’

Kitty is holding- with both hands- Cathy’s OWN cup. Her special cup. It’s not a special cup in the same way that Catalina’s sunflower cup is special- it’s not delicate and it wasn’t expensive, it isn’t even pretty in the same way. It’s actually made of plastic (blue plastic with a little brown plastic otter on the side of it) and it’s quite old now but it’s still special because it’s  _ hers. _

‘Kitty’s just borrowing it for now mija- I thought it’d be easier for her to have a small cup to drink out of rather than another one of the big glasses. You don’t really mind do you?’

Catalina smiles at the sunflower cup in Cathy’s hands as she says it and Cathy can feel how badly Catalina wants her to smile back and say no, she doesn’t. She doesn’t say no. She doesn’t say yes either, but she pouts.

‘It’s MY cup.’ (She’s not saying Kitty CAN’T use it. She’s just reminding them all that it’s hers.)

Kitty looks worriedly at both of them and then at the cup in her hands. Catalina smiles reassuringly at her and tells Kitty that she and Cathy are going to go and have a little chat in the kitchen and to make sure Pink Kitty shares the biscuit with her and doesn’t eat it all herself...and Kitty actually smiles and makes Pink Kitty nod her head.

Catalina closes the kitchen door behind them.

‘Ok mija. What’s wrong?’

‘....It’s MY cup.’

‘I know. But I don’t think that’s really it, is it?’

Cathy fidgets. She doesn’t really know how to say it properly- that it feels like she’s suddenly in a competition she can’t ever, ever have a chance of winning. It’s not that she actually wants her cup itself so much- it’s the feeling that by being given her cup, Kitty’s being given other things, things that you can’t see with your eyes but that are still  _ there  _ nevertheless, that are meant to be hers too.

‘It’s MY cup. And SHE’S using it.’ She doesn’t exactly mean for it to come out as crossly as it does. ‘Why do only I have to share my things?’

Catalina raises an eyebrow. ‘Well that’s  _ my _ cup that  _ you’re _ using mija, so technically I’m sharing with you too.’

That IS true. Still.

‘Kitty is borrowing your cup now because she needs something lighter to drink out of and I want her to feel able to eat and drink while she’s here. I’m sorry you’re not happy about it but it’s the only cup we have that’s suitable. And it’s ok if you’re cross with me about it but you mustn’t make Kitty worry about it or take it out on her, alright? It isn’t her fault.’

Catalina waits.

‘Alright?’

‘Ok.’ It’s quite quiet but Catalina hears and nods.

‘Good girl.’

(She doesn’t  _ feel _ very good.)

Catalina goes back into the living room and Cathy trails behind her.

The biscuit is gone- Catalina asks Pink Kitty very seriously if she shared nicely and Kitty gives a very tiny smile. Then she asks if Kitty will introduce her properly and she shakes a tiny pink paw very seriously- and Kitty giggles. And  _ then  _ she asks if maybe Pink Kitty would like to meet Silver Kitty, and Kitty looks like Catalina has suggested meeting Dorothy and Toto or the queen, someone special and not just a boring old necklace. 

Catalina fetches it and tells Kitty she can hold it to introduce the two smallest Kitty’s to one another but that she needs to be  _ very _ careful because Silver Kitty is only little- and also because, being so little, he might get frightened, with Pink Kitty being so much bigger.

Kitty nods solemnly and the two Kitty’s rub noses and mew at one another.

Cathy watches for a bit and drinks her elderflower- but she can’t properly enjoy drinking from the sunflower mug, not when HER cup is being used by someone else.

Catalina suggests that Cathy get Tarkar so Pink Kitty can meet him too but Cathy shakes her head hard. She doesn’t want to play a silly baby game like that- and Tarkar definitely doesn’t want to meet any Kitty, Pink or otherwise. 

Catalina just says ok, like it doesn’t matter, like it doesn’t matter if Cathy joins in or not….and so as soon as she’s finished, she goes back to her bedroom.

She feels very mixed up.

She might not be happy about Kitty using her mug but she doesn’t like Catalina giving her a nearly-telling-off about not taking it out on Kitty either- it makes her feel guilty, like she’s done something bad already just by having cross thoughts, and she especially doesn’t like the idea that Catalina is protecting Kitty  _ from  _ her. 

She’s never exactly thought about it like this before but she’s used to having Catalina on HER side. Even when she’s insisting on very boring things, like toothbrushing and vegetables and bedtime, she’s still on Cathy’s side, even when the things she’s protecting Cathy from (sugar and junk food and television) are all rather nice.

Now though it feels like things are all mixed up: Catalina’s on Kitty’s side and Cathy’s on another side by herself….and it’s a very lonely feeling. Even fishing Tarkar out from under her pillow doesn’t help much.

She sits in her room and listens to Kitty laughing and Catalina talking out in the living room (she can’t actually hear but she can imagine it) and she wonders if Catalina is having more fun playing with Kitty than she would have had if they’d gone to get ice cream. 

She sits and sits and hours and hours and HOURS pass.

She wonders if Catalina is going to ask Jane to let Kitty visit more now since she likes it so much better and if now she’s just going to have to stay in her bedroom the whole time then too….

Maybe Catalina won’t even remember to feed her and she’ll starve to death and then Catalina will wish she’d just said no to babysitting and taken Cathy to get ice cream like they were meant to, except it will be too late because then she’ll be  _ dead _ -

(Ok, Catalina never actually told her to go to her room. Or said she couldn’t come out. But  _ still _ .)

She wonders if Tarkar is scared of the same thing, of being forgotten about. Maybe he’s afraid that Cathy might decide she’d prefer a pink cat toy over him?

(She hugs Tarkar tight and tells him in her head that of course she would absolutely never, ever want a different toy to him, especially not a silly pink cat that’s a baby toy anyway and probably couldn’t catch a fish or a clam if it’s life depended on it, that she definitely loves him best and always will-)

She’s thinking it so hard that she almost doesn’t notice the knock on the door until it comes again.

‘Mija? Can I come in?’

She’s a bit surprised Catalina is even bothering about her now- unless of course she’s come to steal something else of Cathy’s to give to Kitty instead...and she holds Tarkar even tighter.

‘If you want.’

Catalina comes in and Cathy studies her face carefully to see if she looks disappointed that she’s had to stop playing with Kitty to come check on her actual goddaughter.

(Catalina’s face looks normal but Cathy knows you can never quite tell what someone is thinking really. Like when you think a teacher is just thinking about teacher things and then it turns out that really, they’ve been thinking about how they CAN see that you’re playing a game of hangman instead of doing your sums and how maybe they’ll keep you in at playtime, and you have no idea at all until they shout.)

‘Kitty fell asleep.’

Oh. That’s why Catalina came to check on her. Not because she wanted to at all.

She doesn’t say anything.

‘Jane should be able to pick her up before long.’

She STILL doesn’t say anything. Catalina doesn’t sound sad that Kitty is going home but she probably is.

‘I’m sorry we had to delay our treat.’

_ That’s  _ a surprise. She’d thought Catalina had forgotten all about ice cream.

She shrugs and plays with Tarkar’s paws. ‘It’s ok….’

Catalina doesn’t look as if she believes her; she sits down on the edge of the bed. ‘Well, it was very good of you to not make a fuss about it mija- I was very proud of how grown up you were about accepting it.’

That’s a surprise too- the way that the whole time, she’d been thinking that Catalina had forgotten all about it because she wasn’t mentioning it, and how really, she was thinking nice things about Cathy NOT mentioning it.

(It makes her glad she didn’t complain.)

Catalina’s twisting round, trying to look at Cathy’s face.

‘I know it’s disappointing to have to give up things you were looking forward to to help babysit...but I think between us, we’ve managed ok, didn’t we?’

That’s a funny way to put it too….but she quite likes it. It makes it sound like she’s one of the grownups, that rather than being lumped in with Kitty as a baby and having her ice cream treat taken away, it’s been her and Catalina looking after Kitty- and being disappointed about the icecream- together.

She nods tentatively.

Now Catalina’s said it, she’s feeling just a little bit guilty- she hasn’t, if she’s totally honest with herself, acted exactly like you would expect a proper grown up babysitting to act. Things have started to feel more normal again though- like it’s back to her and Catalina being on the same team again- so it feels safe to risk a quick ‘I’m sorry I was cross about my cup’ without getting told off all over again about it.

Catalina doesn’t tell her off, she just nods. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t ask first mija. I thought you’d enjoy using the sunflower cup enough that you wouldn’t mind or even notice- but I should have asked if you minded.’

‘That’s ok.’

She still doesn’t feel entirely better- it wasn’t really about the cup at all- but she doesn’t quite want to explain all of the not-so-nice thoughts she’s been having all afternoon.

Catalina seems to understand though- she wraps an arm around her and pulls Cathy against her and kisses the top of her head. Cathy lets her. Although a little bit of her thinks it would be nice to sit stiff so that Catalina knows how it feels, she also can’t not burrow into Catalina’s warm side.

‘I know it’s probably been a bit of a strange day for you mija. Having to share me when you’re not used to it.’

She starts to nod and then Catalina starts saying that it’s ok to feel jealous sometimes as long as you don’t act on it, mija- and that makes her shake her head hard because being jealous just sounds babyish and silly and even if it might possibly be a little bit true, there’s no way Catalina can make her admit to it.

‘I’m not. I wasn’t!’

‘Cathy-’

‘Honest and cross my heart!’

Catalina smiles. ‘Ok. I was just going to say that if you  _ were _ ...then I would  _ completely _ understand how you felt.’

This surprises her a bit, because she knows that jealousy is one of those things you’re not meant to feel- all the storybooks and television shows tell you that you’re not supposed to be jealous of your little brother or sister (even though Kitty isn’t her sister, it’s sort of the same), you’re meant to love them and play with them and share with them... more or less everything she’s been resisting doing with Kitty all afternoon.

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes’

‘When?’

She can’t imagine Catalina ever being jealous of anyone at all- and then she wonders if maybe Catalina is just going to tell her about being jealous of one of her brothers or sisters when she was a really, really little girl, or if the story will be about Catalina being jealous of a really nasty horrible person who deserved it. 

‘Oh lots of times, but I think most recently was just a couple of weeks or so ago.’

‘Who?’ She’s fascinated.

Catalina looks at her very seriously. ‘Do you really want to know?’

‘Yes! Yes please!’

Catalina smiles. ‘Alright. To be perfectly honest mija- and this is a bit of a secret so I’d prefer you to not tell everybody, alright-’

‘Alright!’

‘The last person I was jealous of was Jane.’

That’s not at all what Cathy was expecting. ‘Why? What were you jealous of?’ She thinks hard. ‘Did she have something really nice that you didn’t? Was she cleverer than you?’ She thinks hard of all the reasons she and Anne have been jealous of one another. ‘Did someone say she was prettier? Or nicer?’

Catalina shakes her head, smiling a bit. ‘I was actually jealous of her because of you mija.’

‘Me?’

‘Well not  _ because _ of you, it wasn’t your fault at all...Do you remember when the social worker visited last time?’

She nods. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget that.

‘Well honestly I was a little bit jealous of Jane being able to talk to you and comfort you and look after you when I couldn’t.’ Catalina tightens her arm around Cathy. ‘I was so worried about you- you looked so unhappy and I just couldn’t work out why, and I so wanted to be the one to be able to make everything better for you, to be able to solve it all. Of course, I’m very grateful that Jane was there to help, and it’s absolutely right that you have other grownups you trust other than me. And usually I’m very happy with the idea, because you deserve to have lots of people to love you. But in that moment-’ Catalina looks at her straight on. ‘All I could think was that Jane was looking after you better than I could and I felt very sad about it, and a little bit cross with Jane too.’

‘And with me?’

‘Oh no!’ Catalina looks shocked. ‘Not at all with you mija, not for a second. I promise you, not even for a moment, ok?’ She waits until Cathy has nodded before continuing. ‘You see though- even though I knew Jane hadn’t done anything wrong, even though I was very glad that she WAS taking care of you, even though I knew at the time it made no sense at all….I still felt it. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you mija?’

Cathy nods reluctantly. ‘Yes. You’re saying that you weren’t mean to Jane even when you were jealous of her so I shouldn’t have been mean to Kitty.’

‘What? No!’ Catalina looks confused. ‘I mean...yes, obviously you should never be mean to anyone, no matter how you’re feeling. But what the point I was trying to make was that it’s ok to have feelings. You can’t control how you feel- and everyone feels jealous sometimes, even when it doesn’t really make sense.’

Cathy feels confused. ‘But it wasn’t Jane’s fault-’

‘And that’s why we have to make sure we control our actions. Look at it like this-’ Catalina leans forward. ‘They’re two separate things, what we  _ feel _ and what we  _ do _ . So you can feel angry- and that’s ok, that doesn’t make you bad or naughty or anything. Doing something nasty because someone has made you angry, that’s obviously not ok. But just feeling it….that doesn’t hurt anyone at all. It was ok for me to feel jealous of Jane- because that’s just how I felt….but pushing Jane over and kicking her in the leg because I was jealous, that wouldn’t have been. See the difference? ’

The thought of Catalina and Jane fighting like that makes Cathy giggle as she nods and Catalina laughs too.

‘Also mija... I think we both know you could have been a bit friendlier to Kitty today- but I wouldn’t say you were exactly mean to her either. I was  _ very _ grateful to you for keeping her entertained so well when I was busy, and for thinking of making her that pillow fort thing- I think it was just what she needed to feel a bit safer and you were _ just  _ the right person to suggest it too. So I was very glad you were there to help today.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes. In fact-’ Catalina stretches a bit. ‘I don’t know if I even could have agreed to have Kitty at all if I’d been all on my own- but knowing you were on hand to help made me feel a  _ lot  _ better about saying yes.’

Catalina sounds like she means it.

‘Did the cave really help?’

Catalina gives her a hug. ‘It helped  _ so  _ much mija and I’m especially proud of you for doing it to help Kitty even when you weren’t very happy about her being here.’

There’s a little pause.

‘......I thought you liked her more.’ Now that Catalina is actually sitting with her and talking to her, it feels a tiny bit silly, so she almost whispers it into Catalina’s neck because it’s embarrassing to admit- but also, she needs to say it, she  _ needs _ to hear it isn’t true. 

Catalina’s already hugging her but now she almost squeezes the breath out of her. ‘Oh mija no, absolutely not! Kitty’s a very lovely little girl of course and I do like her, very very much-’ Cathy holds her breath. ‘-but that couldn’t possibly even come close to measuring up how much I love you. You are like a piece of my heart mija- there’s nothing at all that could compete with that. Not ever. Do you understand?’

Cathy nods and Catalina pulls her all the way into her lap.

‘Good. I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling like that mija- I promise I never meant to make you feel pushed out.’

‘....I know.’ She  _ does _ know- she was never afraid that Catalina was doing anything on purpose to hurt her (it was the idea that she didn’t care either way that hurt.)

Catalina pauses and gently shifts Cathy’s position on her slightly. ‘Was there anything in particular that made you think that I might like her more? I’d like to be able to put your mind at rest if I can. And to know to not do it again, if possible.’

Cathy thinks. She isn’t sure if she can think of any one specific thing, not that she can put into words anyway- and then she does. ‘You let her call you  _ Aunty Catalina _ . I don’t call you that.’

Catalina looks confused. ‘I didn’t think you wanted to call me  _ Aunty _ mija.’

‘I don’t-’ She isn’t sure if she’s saying it right- she doesn’t want Catalina to think she’s just being nasty. ‘You’re not my aunty for real….but you're not Kitty’s aunty either!’

Catalina nods like she understands. ‘I let Kitty call me aunty to try to make her feel safer with me, do you see mija? By calling me Aunty Catalina, Jane was trying to make sure Kitty knew that I was a safe grownup to be left with.’

That makes sense but still….

‘But even  _ I _ don’t call you Aunty Catalina. Catalina’s what everyone calls you.’ She thinks of an example suddenly. ‘If someone was listening, they’d maybe think Kitty was your goddaughter and not me...’

‘Hm…’ Catalina considers. ‘I think I see. Do you think it would make you feel better mija if we thought of something that ONLY you could call me? Something to let everyone know that you’re special- not just anyone?’

She nods. ‘Like what?’

‘Well I don’t know…’ Catalina thinks. ‘I think we’ve both agreed that  _ Aunty  _ is out. And  _ Godmother _ sounds a bit long and formal…’

Cathy thinks of everyone she knows who lives with someone other than their parents. ‘Posy and Pauline and Petrova called their guardian Garnie because just Guardian sounds funny. But Garnie sounds funny too…’

Catalina looks slightly wrongfooted. ‘Who?’

‘Or they call Great Uncle Matthew G.U.M for short…’ She considers. ‘But that wouldn’t work for you because you’d just be Godmother Catalina. G. C. That doesn’t fit.’

‘I have no idea who you’re talking about mija.’

‘In  _ Ballet Shoes.’ _

‘Oh! Now I remember, yes. Oh yes, they did, didn’t they?’ Catalina considers. ‘No mija, I agree that I don’t think Guardian would quite work for me. Or Garnie either.’

Cathy can’t think of any other examples. ‘Did  _ you _ have a godmother?’

‘I did, actually. She’s not with us any more but she was a very good woman.’

‘What did you call her?’

Catalina smiles fondly. ‘Madrina. It means Godmother in Spanish- it doesn’t sound so formal in Spanish as just  _ Godmother _ does here.’

_ Madrina. _ She quite likes the sound of it. And there’s no way anyone will call Catalina that, since it’s in a whole other language.

‘Can I call you Madrina?’

Catalina nods. ‘Of course you can mija, what a good idea! And you can still call me Catalina too of course if you want to.’

‘Ok.’ She feels so much better about everything that she’s even able to think about important things now. ‘Can we still go and get ice cream even though we didn’t today?’

‘Actually I thought we could still go today- just a bit later than we planned. I just needed us to be in the house for Jane to arrive which is why we couldn’t go this afternoon. Are you still in the mood for ice cream today, do you think?’

‘Is….Kitty going to come with us?’ This will decide, she thinks, whether or not she’s in the mood.

Catalina pauses. ‘Well, I suppose she could. If you’d like…’ 

Cathy feels her stomach sink. She wishes she hadn’t said anything- she doesn’t actually really want Kitty to come (although she minds less than she would have done an hour ago) but she can’t say so: Catalina will expect her to say she wants Kitty to come and she’ll have to be happy about it to prove that she isn’t properly jealous anymore…

‘-but really, if it’s alright with you mija-’ Catalina lowers her voice a little bit. ‘I’d actually really like it if today we could go just the two of us, what do you think? Of course, it means we’ll have to wait for Jane to come, which means going in the evening rather than in the day like I’d planned…’ She pauses. ‘Kitty’s a bit too little for that of course…. What do you say mija, would you mind terribly it just being a more grownup sort of trip this time so I can have you all to myself?’

She’s SO relieved- and so excited at the idea of going out in the evening for desert, which is something even Anne hasn’t done before- that she nods so hard it feels like her head might fall off. 

‘Yes please-’ She pauses. ‘ _ Madrina.’  _ The unfamiliar word feels a little strange in her mouth- but not wrong either. She thinks she could get used to saying it.

Catalina beams.

‘Ok then. Ready to come back to the living room now mija? I’m sure Kitty will be waking up soon and I don’t want her to be frightened if she wakes up by herself.’

‘Ok.’ She slides off Catalina’s lap, and then she has an excellent idea. ‘If she  _ is _ frightened, I can make up a story to distract her. With a cat in it. A blue one.’ (She knows that Kitty would probably prefer a pink cat. But she also knows from Catalina that you shouldn’t always have everything you want, and she doesn’t want Kitty to grow up spoiled after all.)

‘I’m sure she’d love that mija, what a good idea!’ Catalina pauses for a moment. ‘But even if Kitty isn’t  _ quite _ in the mood for another story when she wakes up, I’ll definitely want to hear it when we go for our ice cream later. Ok?’

‘Ok.’ (If it’s for Catalina, she’ll make the cat yellow, she decides.) ‘I’m going to get the ice cream with cookie dough in it.’

‘Excellent choice mija. I think I’m in the mood for lemon sorbet. Or maybe rum and raisin.’

Cathy slips her hand into Catalina’s and they go back into the living room together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it's very important this is Cathy's otter mug:  
> https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSxhyTYJTQEYRXUuePBeDEemT-GG_1g9mB36A&usqp=CAU
> 
> And THIS is Catalina's fancy sunflower teacup:  
> https://image.harrods.com/dunoon-sunflower-skye-mug_15391576_27037186_2048.jpg
> 
> (From Harrods, one might note- so she's being VERY nice by letting Cathy use it at all!)
> 
> Did anyone else get the Ballet Shoes reference??? I had to add it as homage to when I go on and on about something to my patient lovely girlfriend and she eventually has to let me know that no one has any idea what I'm talking about... Although I like to imagine that Catalina read Ballet Shoes as a child too.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am returned, and ready to project my dislike of Christmas all over poor babey Cathy :3  
> Thank you for your patience, you lovely wonderful people! I hope you've all had a good festive season x

The first time she thinks about Christmas is in early November, when the decorations and cards and santa hats first start to infiltrate the normal boring shelves of the supermarket. 

She points it out to Catalina but Catalina is squinting at the shopping list and mumbling to herself and dropping the coupons she and Cathy had carefully cut out the night before all over the floor and she hardly listens, just murmurs absently that it gets earlier every year and then pulls Cathy along with the trolley to the coffee aisle where she spends hours and hours reading all the labels.

(They go home with the same one Catalina always gets, just as they always do.)

Cathy ponders on the sudden arrival Christmas while she pokes the bags of sugar- she likes the tight squashiness of the grains packed tight behind the paper- until Catalina tells her to  _ leave-them-alone _ . 

She wonders if Christmas will actually happen this year and decides it can’t. Not without Mum and Dad.

She expects Christmas, and all the trappings, to gently fade away now that she’s made up her mind about it but somehow, they don’t. Despite her lack of interest in festivity ( _ No, no thank you, really, we’re alright, _ like Catalina when people try to hand her leaflets in town), Christmas stubbornly seeps around the edges of everyday life, drawing closer and closer and becoming harder and harder to ignore.

She doesn’t remark on the Christmas things again- or the decorations when they go up in town. Catalina doesn’t either and Cathy wonders if she’s trying to pretend it isn’t happening too.

The idea of Christmas without Mum and Dad is a horrible thing, pretend in a scary way, like when she and Anne went into the Haunted House at the fairground, holding hands tightly and tiptoing through the dark corridors, and there was a clown- not a funny circus clown but a clown with big bulgy eyes and a big wide open grin that showed a great many sharp white teeth like a shark. It had been familiar but also all wrong and she and Anne had had to run past it quickly, in breathless, giggly terror, because neither of them wanted to be the first to suggest going back.

The idea of Christmas is like that- familiar and scary in all the wrong ways, a parody of itself. She thinks of a word Catalina used, when they walked past the table of people waving signs that had drawings of babies crossed out on them. Catalina had told her not to look but she had anyway, and then she’d seen the other pictures, of lumps of glistening raw-red…. _ something.  _ Catalina had told her that she didn’t know what the pictures were of, when Cathy had asked but Cathy thought she probably had some idea because when the bearded man had tried to give them a leaflet, Catalina had snapped at him crossly, not at all in the usual voice she uses for leaflet-givers, telling him that he should be ashamed and that it was  _ obscene. _

From the way she’d said it, Cathy knows obscene means something worse than bad. As far as she can tell, it means something horrible and disgusting and a bit scary all at once, and that means that it fits perfectly with the idea of Christmas without Mum and Dad.

_ Obscene. _

It shouldn’t be happening, but somehow it  _ is. _

At least it’s only outside, she thinks- Christmas hasn’t infiltrated home.

But then, on the first of December- she knows because of the date on the board at school- Catalina brings a thin, flattish cardboard box out of the kitchen after dinner and offers it to her.

It’s an advent calendar. She thinks it’s funny, how excited she used to be to get one, how she’d beg and plead to open two doors at once, how she pitied Anne for having to share hers with Kitty, and how she and Anne would compete over who had the nicer one. 

(Usually it was Anne but not always: some years she got boring grown-up ones with bitter dark chocolates rather than sweet dairy milk.

One year, when Anne’s Dad had been charged with buying one, she’d got one with little tiny doll-size bottles in it and no chocolate at all. That had been fine, and they’d had two days of games before Mum had noticed- Anne had let her take one of the tiny bottles home because she had lots and she’d added it to her dolls house- and she’d gotten cross. 

She’d called Anne’s Mum and then the calendar AND all the doll-bottles had been taken away. 

Which was very unfair because Anne hadn’t gotten a replacement: her Mum had insisted it was her Dad’s responsibility. Her Dad had insisted he’d done his part by buying one and  _ They should make the bloody labels clearer _ . By the time Jane had finally gone to get one herself, they’d sold out.)

Now it’s just a box: thin and insubstantial, with cartoon characters she doesn’t even recognise on the front.

She takes it numbly and Catalina asks if she isn’t going to open the little window. This would normally be a treat, she knows it’s meant to be a treat….but somehow, popping the little cardboard door feels like something much bigger, like it’s starting off Christmas. She shakes her head.

Catalina asks if she doesn't want it now or doesnt want it at all.

“At all.”

She shrugs like it doesn’t matter but she looks faintly disappointed too.

“Well never mind, in that case-”

And just like that, Catalina prises open the door, pierces the foil with her thumbnail and Christmas has begun.

Cathy snatches the advent calender back and throws it on the floor; the tiny chocolate square rolls out of it’s little plastic setting and rolls away under the sofa (they’ll find it two months later, covered in dust and somewhat melted and Catalina will sigh and say that they need to hoover under the sofa more thoroughly).

“Don’t DO that!”

“Cathy!” It’s Catalina’s cross voice. “You do not snatch, and you don’t throw things, it’s very rude. I certainly didn’t go out on my lunch break to get this for you to act like an ungrateful brat.”

“I didn’t even WANT it!”

Catalina’s eyes glitter.

“Well alright, I’ll know not to bother with getting you treats in future if this is how you’re going to behave.”

“I don’t care!”

She turns to stamp off to her room just as Catalina shouts to tell her to go- it doesn’t count as being sent to her room if she starts to move first.

She stamps around in her room for a bit, then she gets cold and sad and sits hugging Tarkar at the foot of her bed. She doesn’t cry. It’s getting dark but she doesn’t turn on her bedside lamp and when Catalina comes in at last and turns on the big light, it makes her blink and screw up her face.

“Alright Cathy, let’s have a talk.”

Catalina sounds tired as she sits down on the edge of the bed. (She’d smiled when she’d handed over the calendar.)

“Are you ready to talk?”

She isn’t sure but she’s cold and wants to be allowed back into the living room so she nods.

“Right. First thing-”

“I was only-”

Catalina holds up a hand.

“No mija, I’m talking now. So you listen. Then you can talk and I will listen. Ok?”

“...Ok.” She doesn’t want to agree but she knows from experience that Catalina can and will sit still and quiet and wait for her to agree before she continues.

(And she can wait a  _ really _ long time. Catalina says that Cathy has her stubbornness and that it will be both a curse and a blessing.

“What do you mean?”

“A blessing for you. A curse for anyone who has to deal with it.”

She smiles as she says it, so Cathy figures that means it’s a good thing.)

“Ok. First thing, I don’t care how annoyed you are with me, it is not ok to snatch and it is not ok to throw things. Do you understand that?”

She nods.

“Good. You’re a big girl now and clever too- people will expect better from you.  _ I  _ expect better from you. Even if you’re angry- and it’s ok to be angry- you have to use your words, not your hands. I won’t be angry with you for expressing yourself verbally- by talking- but I do not like being shouted at and I don’t like having things thrown at me, especially when I don’t even know what I’ve done to upset you. Ok?”

“Ok.” She traps a bit of duvet cover between her fingers and folds it like a concertina.

“Good. Now I know you didn’t throw the calendar for fun- I know you must have been upset. But Cathy, you have to talk to me. I know you’ve got your side of it and I want to hear it but just to share my side first quickly, so you know what I intended-”

Catalina takes a deep breath.

“I forgot that it was December 1st until late this morning. I felt very bad that I’d forgotten to get you an advent calendar like I know you’re used to, so I went out on my lunch break specially to pick one up because I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

A pit of guilt yawns in Cathy’s tummy; she holds Tarkar tight to her middle.

“Now you not wanting it is not the problem. Do you know what the problem is?”

“I shouted. And threw it. And snatched.”

Her voice is very quiet. Her eyes feel hot.

“Yes. How do you think we could have done this differently instead?”

“.....Could have said thank you.” 

Now her voice is barely there but Catalina hears; she tilts her head.

“Well yes you could have done. That certainly would have been nice and appreciated, even if you didn’t want it. You know what you also could have done?”

“What?”

“You could have just told me what the matter was.”

Cathy considers.

“I’ll never get cross with you for how you feel mija- I want to understand, I want to listen. But first, you have to give me something to listen to, ok?”

She nods reluctantly.

“Good girl. Now, you’ve been very good at listening to me, so now I’ll listen to you. What’s your side?”

She hunches up small. She isn’t sure how to say it.

“Take your time mija.”

“You opened the door.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask if you minded- I just assumed that because you didn’t want it-”

“No-” 

She says it so quickly it’s almost a snap but she can’t bear for Catalina to think that it’s the chocolate that she’s upset about, that she’s just being greedy.

“I don’t care if you eat the chocolate, I didn’t want you to open the door.”

“Why querida?”

“....Christmas. It’s Christmas when you get your advent calendar.”

“You were upset because...of Christmas beginning?” Catalina clarifies. 

Cathy nods. It sounds stupid when Catalina says it like that and she knows she’ll be told to explain more, even though she can’t, she can’t...but Catalina just nods, a slow sadness spreading over her face like ink through blotting paper and she knows with dizzying relief that Catalina understands.

“I’m sorry.” Catalina bites her lip. “I should have asked if you wanted one first. I just….I was so caught up in worrying that you’d be disappointed, I didn’t even think...but of course I should have done. I knew it was going to be….hard for you, I didn’t want there to be another thing you were missing out on.”

Catalina says sorry easily, as if it comes naturally, and that makes it feel easier for her to say it too, unprompted.

“I’m sorry I shouted. And I’m sorry I threw it.”

“That’s alright- just remember to use your words next time, and I’ll remember to ask next time, ok?”

“Ok. Madrina.”

She doesn’t always call Catalina Madrina, even after their conversation but there are sometimes when  _ Catty  _ doesn’t work and this is one of those times.

“Good.” Catalina wraps her up in a warm hug and gives a little laugh. “What a start to the festive season for both of us-” Then her tone changes. “Mija, you’re frozen! Come and get warmed up before you get frostbite.”

That sorts out the advent calendar- Catalina pops all the chocolates out at once, melts them in a bowl and they eat them drizzled over pancakes in one go because then they stop being Christmas chocolate- but it doesn’t sort out Christmas.

A Christmas tree pops up at school, adverts for Christmas toys start to pop up during after-school cartoons. Catalina switches the channel when she can but she’s not always quick enough, and besides, Cathy knows what it is, the minute she hears the Christmassy music.

She hates hearing the happy jingles that she once used to know by heart and hum along to- she hates also that when she  _ does _ see the adverts, it sometimes makes her think about wanting the toy or the craft set and how nice it would be to open it, and  _ then _ she wonders what sort of horrible person would be thinking about wanting a Sylvanian Family Sweet Shop Set rather than about how their parents aren’t alive to buy it for them?

Sometimes this makes her go out of the living room but sometimes it makes her snappy-cross with Catalina too and that’s even worse.

Their teacher plans the Nativity at school and Cathy refuses a part. Anne loyally does too and says she doesn’t want to be an angel on her own. Anna says that if Cathy and Anne aren’t having parts then SHE doesn’t want a part….and the teacher sighs and says that at this rate, no one will have a part. 

She makes Anne and Anna reluctant shepherds but she softens over Cathy and says that she can be a ‘child bearing gifts’, which means that she sits cross legged on the side, along with Marcia who’s broken her leg and keeps having to miss school to have things done to it and Reuben, who cries if too many people look at him at the same time. It’s not what she wanted- she doesn’t want to be in it at all, she doesn’t want there to BE a Nativity at all- but her teacher says it’s the best they can do. 

Christmas even leaks into their normal lessons too- a tiny red bulb fitted to a tiny circuit to make a Christmas card of a red nosed reindeer in Science, Christmas calendars in Art, carols in Singing and worksheets with Santa’s on them in Maths. Cathy hates it all. Sometimes she just sits and glares and fills out the hateful worksheet (or puzzle or word search) in resentful silence; sometimes she has to bite her lip hard to keep from crying. Her feelings remind her of the big kelisecope in the Science Museum: everything one way, and then a tiny twist and whoosh! Everything suddenly upside down and different.

It makes her feel tired all the time: it’s hard to fall asleep and then it’s hard to wake up in the morning. She dreams, but not of her parents, although she wants to so badly that she thinks about them extra hard before falling asleep. It doesn’t change her dreams but it does make her worried, in case what she’s remembering is somehow wrong. It makes her cross too, and she doesn’t like the feeling- it’s a snappish, niggling irritation that makes her huff and sigh and slam her door even when she doesn’t know quite why.

She hears Catalina on the phone to Jane, saying worriedly that Christmas has unsettled her and she doesn’t know what to do.

_ Unsettled _ . The word fits. It makes her think of a snowglobe shaken up, all the little flakes of pretend snow falling haphazardly, as if the sky itself is falling in on the poor snowman or Father Christmas inside.

She knows her teacher has spoken to Catalina; she’s had a note sent home too, after she had said that she hated Christmas and that she didn’t believe in Santa anyway and Stephen had said that she was boring and that Santa didn’t come to children who didn’t believe, that the parents had to do it and that now she didn’t have parents to do it, she wouldn’t have any presents at-

Then he’d been cut off. The zip of Anne’s pencil case had left an interesting red mark over his eye and Stephen’s Mum had later come in to complain: Anne had said that Stephen’s parents probably hated him and that Father Christmas probably did too and that maybe Father Christmas would come down his chimney and Get Him for being so horrible.

(Stephen’s Mum said that now Stephen is having nightmares and doesn’t want to put out a mince pie for Father Christmas anymore and that she wants Anne excluded for  _ spoiling the magic _ . Cathy repeats this to Catalina on the way home and Catalina snorts with laughter before trying to make her face look serious again.)

Cathy doesn’t think it’s fair that she got a note sent home too- she hadn’t even done anything. She hadn’t been  _ able  _ to do anything, to say anything. Stephen hadn’t made her cry but she’d been so busy not-crying that her face had somehow ended up all red and blotchy anyway. 

Anna had said that she looked normal but she was probably lying. She hadn’t hit Stephen herself- just held Cathy’s hand tight while Anne flew at him- but the next day, she’d walked very slowly past Stephen’s desk and announced that she didn’t believe in Father Christmas either.

Jayne Rochford had said that they probably didn’t even have Father Christmas in Germany and Anna had looked scornful.

“Father Christmas is for babies. In Germany, we have the Krampus instead and he’s much better. He could eat Father Christmas for breakfast.”

There’s a little clamous and Anna smiles, satisfied with the attention.

“He’s a goat-man monster with black horns and hooves like the devil. He comes to our houses on the 5th and if you’re good, you get presents.”

“So like Father Christmas only boring and ugly,” says Jayne dismissively. “Like you,” she adds and there’s a nervous ripple of giggles.

Anna shrugs as if she doesn’t care.

Anne looks like she’s thinking of jumping right over the desk, and Cathy starts to say that Anna is a million times prettier than Jayne, that she looks like a witch and all that’s missing is the wart on her nose….but Anna interrupts her.

“At least I’m not going to get eaten.”

She turns as if she’s going to go back to her desk but now everyone is interested again rather than sniggery and urges her.

“What?”

“What do you mean?”

Jayne Rochford recovers her composure quickly.

“That’s stupid.”

“Believe it if you like.” Anna is very, very calm. “But if you’re nasty-” She looks hard at Stephen and then back at Jayne, “If you’re nasty, then he just eats you.”

“But he wouldn’t come here,” says Jayne. She tries to make it sound like a fact but it comes out more like a question. “You SAID he’s German.”

“Yeah but Anna’s here now,” chips in Anne like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So OBVIOUSLY now he’s coming here.”

“And I’ll tell him all about you,” continues Anna. “I’ll tell him just what you look like.” And she looks at Stephen again, as if she’s memorising what he looks like.

“Well I’ll tell him what you look like-” Jayne starts but Anne shakes her head.

“He only speaks German, DUH.”

Anna nods. “Yep. So I can tell him who I want him to eat. And my friends can tell me and I can tell him for them too.”

“You’re just making that up!” Jayne cries. “I don’t believe there’s any such thing!”

“There is!” Cathy retorts heatedly. “Just because you don’t believe it, doesn’t mean it’s true. Besides,” she adds, “my Madrina says it’s true too. She has a friend who’s German and she said they told her all about it and it’s definitely true. So there.”

“She does!” Anne agrees. “I went to Cathy’s house and there’s a picture of the friend.”

(That’s true, at least. There ARE lots of pictures of Catalina’s friends around the flat and she does have a friend from Germany. So that makes it all nearly true.)

Jayne had subsided eventually, and Stephen had looked even more frightened. Anna had spent all playtime having her favour courted by children who wanted to keep their houses Krampus-free.

Her popularity is cemented when she brings in gingerbread hearts for the whole class. (She’d whispered something quickly in Stephen’s ear as she handed his heart over, and he’d looked sick and left his cookie untouched on his desk.)

Cathy is so grateful to have them as friends, she breaks her heart into two pieces and gives one to Anne- for the fighting- and one to Anna- for whatever she’d told Stephen. She doesn’t want it.

_ She’d baked gingerbread ladies with Mummy the week before Christmas, the week before every Christmas, as far back as she could remember. They were gingerbread ladies even though they looked just like gingerbread men- Mummy had said that they liked wearing jeans and Cathy had understood because she liked jeans better than skirts too. They’d always picked one special one to be a gingerbread man ‘for Daddy’ and every year, he’d squinched up his eyes while looking at the plate, trying to pick out which one it was, and every year he’d pick one and she’d tell him yes, and he’d eat it, and every year, she’d stay squirmy-silent until he was half way through before gleefully pointing out a different one, and he’d act terribly surprised every time and say that in that case, he’d better have two and she’d squeal and pull the plate away, exploding with giggles. Once, back when she was a baby, she’d pull the plate too hard and the gingerbread ladies had taken a short, fast trip to the carpet, but she’d helped Mummy pick them all up and dust them off again and you could hardly tell- _

No, she doesn’t like gingerbread anymore.

A week after the advent calendar debacle, Catalina asks if they can have a talk. She wonders what she’s done wrong, wonders if Catalina has noticed that she’d snuck into her bedroom and sprayed some of her special perfume onto herself before school….but Catalina says she wants to talk about Christmas and Cathy feels sick.

The dread of it has been building up in her stomach for days and days- a tense, sick, churning sort of anxiousness, that won’t go away no matter what she does. It makes her pick at her cereal in the morning and Catalina has started gently trying to encourage her to eat more at dinner, which she never used to do.

“Can we talk mija?”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know. But I think we have to. I really should have talked to you about it before but I’ve been….putting it off.”

“Ok.”

Catalina moves her sewing off her lap, an invitation. Part of Cathy hopes that if she stays by the door she can slink away somehow and avoid this conversation already, but another bit of her can tell that this conversation might be a tiny bit easier if Catalina is holding her, so she grudgingly goes over to her and Catalina waits until she’s gotten comfy.

“I know you’re not looking forward much to Christmas this year mija.”

It’s a little bit of a surprise Catalina can say it so calmly- Christmas is meant to be the most exciting, the most special day of the whole year, so not looking forward to it feels odd and shameful and a little bit scary (if the most special day of the year isn’t special...what IS special?)

She nods.

“It’s  _ everywhere _ …”

Catalina nods.

“I know the feeling.”

“They play the stupid music in the shops and we have to do all Christmas things at school and I hate it-”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Catalina sounds like she’s choosing her words. “I think this Christmas is going to be hard for both of us- you especially, of course.”

“Because of Mum and Dad.”

“Yes. And I think that the best thing for us to do is accept that and face up to it and-”

She tries to twist around.

“You’re supposed to be happy on Christmas.”

“I know mija, but does telling yourself you have to be happy actually make you happy?”

She shakes her head.

“No. And I’m  _ not _ happy. I don’t want to be happy about Christmas without Mum and Dad. It’s not proper Christmas.”

“I understand.” She takes a deep breath. “So I think the best thing for us to do is accept that...and just get through it as best we can, ok?”

“How do we do that?”

“Well-” Catalina considers. “I think the biggest and most important thing is that we remember that it’s ok to feel how we feel. It’s ok to be sad, it’s ok to be angry- but it is ok to feel happy too. I don’t want you to feel that you’re  _ not _ allowed to enjoy bits of it or look forward to things.”

Cathy nods. She wonders if Catalina has read her thoughts during the toy adverts.

“I know. You’ve told me that before.”

Catalina hides a smile.

“I have. Well, you can remind me if I forget, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Also, I think we need to remember that this isn’t going to be our only Christmas or our last Christmas ok? If we do Christmas one way this year and it doesn’t work or we decide we want something different next year, that’s ok. Ok?”

“Are we going to get a tree?”

“Well that’s what i was going to ask you mija. Would you like a tree?”

She supposes it’s nice Catalina is asking but it also feels like much too much of a big question to answer, because how can it be Chrismtas without a tree, and how can she decide if Christmas should happen or not?

It’s exactly what she’s wanted for weeks but now she doesn’t know how to answer.

“Maybe a small tree?” Catalina suggests after a moment. “That we can decorate or not decorate depending on how we feel? Then it’s here if we want it but if we don’t, then that’s ok.”

That sounds alright.

“Do YOu want a tree?”

Catalina shrugs.

“Honestly mija, I just don’t know. Sometimes I feel like it would be nice, and sometimes I feel like I’d rather not. It’s very confusing.” She pauses. “Is that how you feel too perhaps?”

“Yes.” It’s a relief to have it expressed in words. “I don’t know because it’s all mixed up.” She thinks for a moment. “A little tree would fit there. If we had one.” 

She points at the spot by the window and Catalina nods.

“Excellent place mija. We’d be able to see the lights from outside.”

She quite likes that idea.

“Do you have decorations?”

“I have some. We could get more, if you like.” She pauses. “Some of your Mummy and Daddy’s things are tucked away in storage. I haven’t been able to look at them yet- but we could see if your old decorations are there too, if you like. I think there’s a good chance they might be.”

She isn’t sure if she likes that idea or not. She feels like the decorations can’t exist outside of the house, outside of the happy family Christmas’s that she used to know in her old life. She imagines the baubles bursting, insubstantial as soap bubbles, the manger scene sinking into dust.

“And will we have Christmas dinner?”

Catalina thinks.

“Would you like to have Christmas dinner?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” She doesn’t like turkey much- it’s like chicken but not nice- and when she tells Catalina that, she laughs and says that she’d always thought that if she wanted turkey, she could get the same experience by drying out some chicken over the air vents and then eating it.

That doesn’t sound very tasty.

“Maybe we could decide what bits of Christmas dinner we like and have those...and then fill in the gaps with things we do like? How about that?”

She didn’t know you could have something that wasn’t Christmas dinner on Christmas. 

“I like chocolate log. And trifle.”

(She never had trifle at home because Daddy didn’t like jelly and Mummy didn’t like custard, but she knows Catalina likes both and  _ she _ likes both, and especially the spongy bit in the middle, even if Anne says that wet cake is the most horrible desert she can think of.)

“Maybe we should have traditional Christmas deserts and something else for special dinner?”

A brilliant thought occurs to her.

“We could have trifle for dinner and chocolate log for pudding! Please Madrina!”

“I think we have to find room for something slightly more nutritious too…” But she’s laughing as she says it and Cathy thinks there’s a good chance they will get the two deserts after all.

Catalina looks relieved.

“Ok. That’s dinner and the tree decided on. I think probably the best thing is to play it by ear, ok? We’ll see how we feel and….” She takes Cathy’s hands and looks serious. “I want you to remember that you are what matters most, ok? So if you want to have Christmas day, we can. And if you’d rather us have a normal sort of day, we can. We can take the bits that we want and leave the rest, ok?”

“Ok.” She does have a very, very important question to ask though. She almost doesn’t want to ask in case Catalina is shocked, but she  _ has _ to.

“Catty?”

“Yes mija?”

“If we don’t have Christmas day, or if we only have a bit of Christmas day….will we still have presents?”

She holds her breath, waiting for Catalina to ask how she can even be thinking about presents when she should be thinking about Mum and Dad. She knows from tv and school assemblies and storybooks that Christmas is Not About The Presents. 

(She knows you’re meant to care more about family and loving each other than what you get in your stocking, even if what you get in your stocking is much more exciting than the family you see every day and the baby niece who screams and the big sister who tells you off if you so much as look at her makeup and the cousin who is so scared of the idea of Father Christmas that you’re not even allowed to hang up your stocking on the end of your bed properly…. 

Their teacher had scolded Anne for writing this on her  _ The Meaning of Christmas Worksheet.  _ Anne says their teacher can’t handle the truth. _ ) _

Catalina doesn’t scold her for asking about presents, thankfully: she laughs and hugs her tight and says that there will  _ absolutely be presents no matter how the day goes mija, I promise. _

So  _ that’s _ alright.

  
  



	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies all for how very long it's been since I updated, and thanks for @haavamina and @evenatango for letting me talk my ideas through first!
> 
> I wanted a light fluffy chapter to make up for the angst. The museum/gallery Cathy and Catalina go to is based off the museum I went to a lot as a child- all the paintings and artifacts mentioned are real items in the collection and are referenced at the end. Even if you only look at one, do look for Bubbles, A Cottage Scene With Children: we had a print on the wall growing up so to me, it has so much sentimental meaning!
> 
> I really hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think!! Thank you so, so much for all your lovely comments and encouragement thus far!

The museum is the same museum she’s been to a million times before, with Mum and Dad, and with school, but walking into it with Catalina at her side feels different somehow.

It’s not like going with Mum and Dad- nothing is like it was with Mum and Dad, and she’s nearly always stopped expecting it to be, mostly, but it’s not like going with school either. 

She’s been with school nearly as often as with Mum and Dad because every year, they do a School Trip, which means the coach with stale-smelling scratchy seats, and teacher’s fussing about packed lunches, and someone’s orange squash always leaking and making everything damp and sticky, and the horrible red plastic bucket that always gets brought in case someone needs to throw up in it (and which, it’s rumoured, if you’re really, really, really naughty, will become the receptacle for your packed lunch, although she’s never known it to happen.)

(Although she and Anne actually made up that rumour themselves in Year Two on a deadly-boring trip to look at the same lock they’d all troupe past a million times before, so that might be way it’s never actually happened.)

She’s always found school trips to places she’s been before a bit strange- fun because they’re a school trip but weird too, because there’s never time to see everything and because all the rules about staying-with-your-partner and not-wandering-off mean that she gets scolded if she walks two steps away so she can say hello to Old Billy, the stuffed horses head on the wall, rather than paying attention to the boring bits of pottery.

She hopes Catalina won’t make her look at the pottery but you can never be completely sure with grownups.

It’s a raining, the steel-grey-sky sort of day, and the flat feels small and her books feel boring and the television is nothing but men kicking balls while someone talks very fast about it and she can tell by the way Catalina sighs as she switches channels that she feels just as fed up.

“How would you feel about a little outing, mija?”

“An outing?”

That sounds exciting. Outings are what children’s nannies take them on in old Victorian story books.

“I was thinking it might be a good day to go and have a wander around the museum. Mental stimulation before we both vegetate. What do you say?”

She isn’t quite sure what stimulation is, or vegetate either since what has anything got to do with vegetables, but she  _ does _ quite like the idea of a trip.

“Alright.” Then she gets a brilliant idea. “Ooh can we go to see the dinosaurs?”

“The Natural History museum?”

She nods.

“One day, definitely but it’s a bit of a long journey for now. I was thinking just the normal one.”

She considers it. She’s been there- but she hasn’t been there with Catalina, and she’s also just missed it a little bit. Not a lot, not like how she misses people, or even in the way that she still thinks wistfully about her old home, but just in the way that you miss places that you know back to front and inside out.

“Ok. Can we go now?”

“That’s the plan, mija.”

The rain hits the car windscreen so hard that it’s like it’s trying to break right though, so Catalina turns the radio up extra loud so that they can both still hear it, and they sing along to the songs- at least she does. Catalina joins in for most of them, although there’s one she suddenly turns right down half way through and then she glances at Cathy out of the corner of her eye with a funny look on her face.

“Why did you turn it down?”

“What do you think this song is about, mija?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s never really occurred to her that songs have meanings, exactly, apart from when they’re in a musical and the songs are just about what’s happening on stage. The words are just part of the song. She thinks hard.

“It’s about someone who’s going to be all lonely by themselves.”

“Right.”

“So it’s just him. And his hand.” She decides to ask something she’s always wondered. “Why does she just say his hand? Because it’s not just his hand, he’s with his foot and his other foot and his ears and his nose and his head and his brain and everything else.”

Catalina doesn’t answer, but she relaxes, and turns the music back up when Cathy asks her to.

(Grownups are  _ so  _ strange sometimes.)

*

The museum isn’t too busy when they arrive and Catalina says that’s a blessing, whatever that means, and spends some time talking to the lady behind the counter about how much it’s raining (a lot) and how likely it is that it will rain more tomorrow (very likely) and how good it is that it’s raining so much because the plants need it (very good) and how strange it is that it’s so quiet (very strange.)

It’s one of the boring conversations that grownups often have with one another but they both look happy to be having it. 

Once they’re done and Catalina is leading her into the gallery part which comes first, she whisper-asks Catalina if she knows the desk lady and Catalina says no, but that she knows what that sort of job is like.

“You worked in a museum?”

“Not in a museum, no, but jobs where I’ve had to sit behind a desk and wait, and I’d always appreciate it so much because I’d be so bored.”

“Oh.”

That makes sense. She thinks that maybe when she’s grown up, she’s going to learn how to do that sort of grownup talking so that she can make the desk people happy too.

The gallery itself is thick with memory that hits her like a wave as they walk in and for a second, she thinks about running back out again because she’s here, but she’s not here with Dad and she’ll never be here with him again and she didn’t even know that the last time she came with him would be the last time, and if she’d known, she’d have wanted it to last much longer, rather than whining that she was thirsty and that her feet hurt.

Then Catalina puts her hand on her shoulder and says “Alright, mija?” and she knows from how she says it that maybe Catalina can tell a little bit of what she’s thinking and she also somehow knows that if she did go right back out, Catalina  _ would _ take her home without getting at all cross, and knowing that she isn’t trapped her with the memories stops it from feeling so suffocatey.

They start to walk. The gallery is shadowy-dark, apart from the spotlights lighting up the paintings, and quiet too- she knows you only whisper in places like this.

She thinks they will just walk around in order but Catalina whisper-asks her if she has a favourite painting.

“Not really one favourite. But I like this one. Not because it’s good, it just reminds me of Anne.”

“Why, mija?”

She can understand why Catalina is asking- the paint is a bit blurry and very bright, like someone has been told they can only use one colour for each thing, and she usually prefers the pictures with clean lines and warm colours. This one isn’t even anything very interesting, just a man by a pillar. He doesn’t look anything like Anne, but there’s something in the way he’s standing and looking over his shoulder and pursing his lips that reminds her of the photo George sent the family one Christmas, cut from a magazine. Of course, George was wearing shorts rather a tunic, but they were short, like the tunic in the painting is.

She doesn’t feel like explaining all that to Catalina though, so she just says one thing: “The boots. George has a pair like that, except with heels on.”

(He does- high and bright red, Anne says. He was wearing the boots in the magazine picture too. The pictures all creased from where Anne’s Dad screwed it up and threw it in the bin so hard it nearly bounced back out again, but Anne has smoothed it out flat again and aside from the little white lines, you can hardly tell.)

Catalina smiles.

“He has excellent taste.” 

“That one’s not finished.”

“Where?”

She points- it’s just pencil lines and it’s a bit smudgey- and Catalina smiles.

“I see what you mean. Maybe they thought it looked better without colour-” She leans close to read the little white card next to it. “Oh look mija, it’s by a woman!”

(Catalina always looks all happy-excited when something is done or made or invented by a woman. Mum was the same and she still doesn’t really get why. After all, aren’t most things made by women? Or lots, anyway?)

“Oh, this one was painted by her husband.”

It’s a proper painting, of a woman’s head done so big that it takes up nearly the whole canvas. She has a very fed-up look on her face.

“She looks like you, Madrina.”

Catalina looks surprised.

“Really?”

She can tell why Catalina looks surprised- really, they don’t look anything alike at all. This woman has pale, pink skin and light brown hair and grey eyes- nothing like Catalina at all.

“Not like that, just how she looks there-” Cathy tries to think of how to explain it. “She looks how you look when you don’t feel like making dinner but you have to. Or like when you’re on the phone to the bills people.”

Catalina bursts out laughing.

(That’s good. She really likes it when she can make Catalina laugh properly, it makes her feel very special that she can make grownups laugh.)

“That’s exactly it, mija! Now you say it, it’s that exactly.” Catalina puts her head on one side and studies the picture. “You know, I think it looks like she’s getting a bit bored of having to sit still for the picture.” She puts her head on one side against the glass, a mirror of the woman in the picture. “ _ Come on, Rossetti, hurry up, I want to put my shirt on, I’m cold!” _

Cathy mimics her.

“ _ You’ve been painting me for ages, I’m getting hungry, why can’t you just paint out of your head like everyone else?” _

_ “I wish I’d never agreed to this-” _

_ “Who wants a boring picture of a face anyway, do more of me next time!” _

_ “Oh no, you smudged below my neck, you’ll have to just cut off my body and pretend you only wanted to paint my head really!” _

They’re both laughing now- an old man in a tweed jacket shoots them a sharp look from across the room and this just makes them laugh more- Catalina puts her hand over her mouth.

“Oh God I’m being a terrible influence- ok, we’d better simmer down before we get thrown out.”

She mostly manages, but it’s hard because looking at the paintings with Catalina is quite fun. They don’t look at everyone single one and sometimes Catalina walks right across the room to start looking at a different bit, which makes the tweedy-man tut.

There’s another picture that all dark lines, except this one looks very finished, like a proper drawing. Cathy thinks first that it’s a woman in armour and she likes it a lot and asks Catalina if it’s Joan of Arc. 

(She and Anne and Anna know all about Joan of Arc, and they’ve spent many happy playtimes playing at being burnt at the stake. When they play it at Anne’s house, they sometimes do the bit about God speaking to Joan and they make Kitty play one of the sheep that Joan is tending, while the other hides behind a chair and tells Joan in a big deep voice that she’s to lead the French army to Victory.

Except that when Anne plays Joan, she sometimes decides to spice things up a bit by arguing with God and saying she’d rather play with her sheep than have to be part of some boring war, and once she even pretended that she couldn’t hear God altogether and Cathy had to threaten to smite her to make her play properly.)

“ _ Childe Roland _ …. No, sorry mija, it’s a boy.”

“Oh.” She’s very disappointed.

Catalina explains that it’s from a fairy story.

“Which one?”

“I don’t think you’ll have heard of it… I don’t even remember most of it. I know it’s about a little boy, Roland, playing with his brothers and sisters and his sister gets kidnapped by the elves and Roland has to rescue her.”

“Why do the elves take her?”

“I think they lose a toy- a ball- in the churchyard and she walks around the church the wrong way, from the right rather than the left.”

“Why’s that bad?”

“I think it was meant to be bad luck, they called it walking widdershins.”

The story sounds ok but she’s delighted by the new word and says it over and over to herself under her breath as they walk on.

There’s painting after painting- some she recognises from visits with Dad: the cross old lady in the bonnet, the bent-necked lady in bed with the baby sitting on her chest like it’s hoping she’ll wake up and make it breakfast, the man being hugged by the angel.

(The angels trying to hug the man and the man looks like he’s a bit uncomfortable and doesn’t really want a hug all that much and it reminds her of having to be hugged by aunties and uncles at Christmas, and she wonders if the man is just putting up with it because the angel has maybe brought him a present and Catalina laughs when she says that.

“Look at his pink wings though, mija! Like a bird. I wonder why angels always get given white wings when they could have something so much more interesting, I hope I have-” 

She’s saying it casually, as if she’s not really thinking about it, and then she stops and Cathy’s tummy goes tight for a second when she realises why.

Of course. Angels can’t just be angels for her any more.

But it’s just a little squeeze, not a sickening jolt, and Catalina has taught her how to take a deep breath and to try and think of a good memory to balance out the sadness too, if she can.

( _ “How do you do that?” _

_ “Well, when I feel like that- when I see something that reminds me of Maria and it makes me miss her, I try and think about how glad I am to have her as a friend and how lucky I was to be able to have memories with her.” _

_ “Does it help?” _

_ “Sometimes. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to though, it’s ok to be sad.” _

_ “I might want to. Sometimes. I’d rather be sad-happy than just sad.” _

_ “Me too mija, me too.” _ )

So instead of crying or walking away or anything, she takes a big breath in and says, quietly, “Mummy would have wings like that. But purple, not pink, because she liked purple more.”

Catalina wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses the top of her head.

“I think you’re right, mija. Purple, with perhaps little silver feathers here and there?”

“Like her special dress with the silver threads?”

“Exactly.” There’s a pause. “What about Thomas?”

“I think… that he’d have really dark blue. Like a criss-cross pattern, like his favourite shirt.”

(She misses that shirt. Catalina says that he wore it to the crematorium so he can wear it forever, which is nice but she still misses it.)

She shows Catalina the special painting that Dad liked best- people in bright drapey clothes, shafts of sunlight falling onto a narrow winding street with high walls.

“It’s called The Bazaar. That’s where people buy things. He said it reminded him of going travelling.”

“You can almost hear it.” Catalina leans closer, as if listening for voices of the tiny people haggling. “Mmm, I feel like i can feel the sun on my face!”

That’s such a nice thought that Cathy leans closer too, imagining the warmth from the spotlight is bright sunlight, and then she tugs Catalina to the left.

“Oh look! This one, this one is my favourite!”

She’d managed to forget it but it  _ is  _ one of her favorites- a group of children blowing bubbles in a garden- and always used to feature heavily when she and Dad would tell picture-stories to each other.

“Look, that one is me-” She points at the red-haired girl blowing the bubbles. “-and that one is Anne, watching me… that’s Mary, holding baby Catie on her knee, and that’s Kitty in the door holding the bowl- it’s milk, for Pink Kitty- and the boys are George and Francis and they’re going to make the bubbles into art.”

“That’s lovely, mija.”

She starts to tell Catalina one of the stories she made up for Dad, about her and Anne and Kitty and everyone living in the cottage and playing blowing bubbles all day and no one roll their eyes at George and Kitty not having to look frightened and baby Catie never crying and Mary never looking tired and no grownups to tell any of them what to do, except maybe Jane, who lives in the cottage too.

She pauses.

“And you can too, if you want.”

Catalina smiles.

“Thank you mija, that’s sweet of you. I rather think I’d be inside the cottage, having a nice cup of tea, looking out of the window and enjoying the scenery. It looks very peaceful.”

“Which is your favourite painting?”

Catalina thinks for a while- she lingers a long time over a girl with a bucket under a bridge, and another picture of peacocks and people in big hats and a lady in long, floaty, stripey trousers, but then Cathy remembers that they’re just like some that Anne’s Mum wears sometimes and Catalina makes a face and says that she’ll pick a different one.

She spends a long time choosing, taking it very seriously, and eventually she points to one of a line of girls on a beach, all of them carrying baskets and nets.

“That one. The Fisher Girls.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just like it. The one with her hands on her hips reminds me of you.”

“I don’t look like that.”

“I know. Just something in the expression.”

“Alright.” 

Actually, it’s not a bad painting at all. She wonders which of the girls Anne would be, and she decides she’d be the one looking a bit fed-up at the front.

“I wonder what they’re all thinking?”

She considers, her head on one side.

“I think they all live in a big, pretty cottage by the sea together, and they make sandcastles and paddle and play games and swim, and the basket is from their picnic lunch-”

“I like that idea, mija. I like it a lot.” Catalina studies them all carefully. “I think the women at the back are talking about…. Hmmm, maybe one is saying that-”

A loud voice pierces their conversation.

“Look, Joan! Look at the lovely picture!”

There’s a very tall woman standing far too close- she pulls her daughter, a pale girl, older than Cathy, in front of her. The girl looks faintly bored.

“Yes, Mummy.”

“ _ Fisher Girls On The Beach.  _ Do you remember when we saw a picture a bit like this one, sweetpea.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“When?”

The girl blinks, taken by surprise, and shrugs.

“Now, Joan, darling, you simply must remember! When we took that lovely trip with Daddy to Washington? In America?”

(She says this bit extra loud but it doesn’t have much of an effect on the girls memory.)

“At the National Gallery of Art?” The girl makes a thumb print on the glass. “Winslow Homer, darling!”

“Oh. Yeah. Winslow.”

The woman beams, displaying large white teeth. It reminds Cathy of the shark they saw on the trip to the aquarium.

“Well done!”

It’s a bit weird, because the woman is clearly talking to Joan but she’s starring really intently at Catalina as she speaks. Catalina blinks at her, obviously a bit unnerved.

“Come on, Cathy. Let’s go and look over-”

“Isn’t it  _ wonderful  _ to interest children in art young?” 

The woman suddenly demands. It almost sounds as if she’s accusing Catalina of thinking the opposite- Catalina takes a step back.

“Oh. Yes.”

Now the woman’s bending down to Cathy.

“Do you go to many galleries, little girl?”

She hates hates hates being called  _ Little Girl  _ but Catalina’s giving her a be-polite-or-else look so she grits her teeth.

“Not really.”

The woman looks pleased.

“Oh, then Joan can help you, she knows ever such a lot-”

She wants to say that she doesn’t need help looking at pictures but she doesn’t think that would count as being polite, so she just stands there.

“Tell the little girl about Homer, Joan!”

The girl looks apologetically at Cathy.

“Which one, Mummy?”

“What?”

“Well, there’s Homer in the Simpsons and-”

“The artist, sweetpea!” There’s definitely a note of hysteria in the woman’s voice. “Silly Daddy, letting you watch those nasty cartoons that one time!” She glances at Catalina again. “Joan’s  _ such _ a reader- she’s read all of Oliver Twist!”

The girl mumbles something.

“Don’t mumble, sweetie! Remember, stand up straight and speak out!”

“It wasn’t as good at The Sleepover Club!” The girl says very loudly, looking her mother straight in the eye. “You said it would be better and it wasn’t, it was really boring and everyone talked funny!”

“But you loved it when you got into it, didn’t you darling? Didn’t you?”

The daughter sighs wearily, taking pity.

“Yes, Mummy.”

It only takes a second for the sharky smile to pop back into place.

“Can  _ your _ little girl read yet?”

“Well-”

“Only I know there’s such a trend nowadays for so-called modern parenting, letting children  _ learn organically _ and suchlike.” She bends to Cathy again. “What’s the hardest storybook you’ve ever read, sweetheart? Was it long?”

“Look, I don’t think-”

Catalina’s starting to look annoyed but Cathy suddenly wants to laugh. The woman looks so, so desperate to know, as if it’s a big secret that she’ll do anything to find out, and so Cathy decides to have some fun.

She thinks back to the longest book she’s ever seen and remembers Catalina’s ill-fated effort to join a bookclub, how they’d gone to Smiths for the big glossy paperback and how Catalina had proceeded to put it on her bedside table and not pick it up once all week.

(“Aren’t you going to read it?”

“Later mija. I think Ched and Jess are about to be voted off the island!”)

She hadn’t even opened it before the bookclub night, she’d put on another episode of  _ Doctor Foster _ and opened her laptop up instead.

“What are you looking at?”

“This mija,” Catalina explained, “is called _ Sparknotes _ .”)

Cathy gropes for the title and finally seizes it.

“War and Peace.”

Catalina gives a snort of laughter that she quickly turns into a cough but the woman doesn’t even notice: her eyes go all wide and fixated on Cathy.

“R- really?”

“Yes.”

“Wh- when did you read it?”

“In summer.”

“This summer?”

“Yes.”

“Oh!” A light flickers back into the woman’s eye. “Ah, you see Joan and I were visiting Versailles in the summer, so she didn’t have as much time to read as she usually would. Have you heard of Versailles, dear?”

Cathy nods nonchalantly.

“Yeah. I’ve been there. Loads.”

“Oh really?”

Cathy nods again.

“So much.”

“Well…. You’re a very lucky girl. Of course, Joan doesn’t have time  _ just  _ for reading. She’s studying for the eleven plus.”

“But it’s not for two years Mummy-”

The woman hushes her daughter and Catalina gives a polite smile.

“Me too.”

The words fly out of Cathy’s mouth before she can think about them.

“What?”

The woman’s head whips around.

“I’m studying for it too.”

She has no idea what the eleven plus is but she thinks it’s not like the woman can’t prove she isn’t.

“Well, isn’t that nice?” The woman doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s nice at all.

“You’re too little though.”

Joan’s voice is scornful. 

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

Cathy sticks her tongue out and then Joan pulls a truly magnificent face back, with her nostrils flaring and her eyes bulging and Cathy bursts into giggles. Joan looks pleased but her mother tuts at her.

“Joan! Stop that horrible silliness right now!” She eyes Cathy up and down. “How old are you, dear?”

“Seven.”

“And you’re…. studying for your eleven plus? Four years early?”

Cathy still doesn’t know what the eleven plus is but she quite likes how the woman’s face has gone a milky-grey colour.

“Do- do all your friends start studying that early too?”

“Oh no. Just me.”

“Ah.” The woman relaxes a fraction.

“Because I’m taking it early.”

“What?!”

Cathy nods seriously.

“Yes.”

“That’s not allowed-”

“Madrina got special permission.”

For a moment, the woman looks like she’s going to burst into tears. Then her face twists and she shoots a glare at Catalina.

“I think hot-housing your child like that is  _ disgusting _ ! Come along, Joan!”

Joan allows herself to be tugged away but gives Cathy a little wave over her shoulder and Catalina and Cathy both wave back.

Catalina lets them get out of earshot before she starts laughing.

“Cathy! You’re a very, very naughty girl to lie like that!”

“I wasn’t lying, I was just….”

“Just what?”

“I was….telling a story.”

Catalina raises an eyebrow and shakes her head.

“I really should tell you off properly… Oh goodness, her  _ face _ when you came out with  _ War and Peace _ , mija!”

“It was the longest book I could think of.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll remember you.”

Catalina pauses for a second and then starts laughing all over again, until the tweedy man starts walking over to them, swelling like an indignant balloon, and they have to make a hasty escape into the museum itself.

It’s the most fun Cathy’s had at the gallery for  _ ages. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! The paintings plus the horses head mentioned are referenced here:
> 
> The taxidermied head of Old Billy, the world's oldest horse https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Billy
> 
> Libra, by Bonifazio de Pitati https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/libra-48225/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid
> 
> The Woeful Victory, by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/the-woeful-victory-275430/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid
> 
> Fanny Cornforth, by Dante Rossetti  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/fanny-cornforth-275317/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid
> 
> Childe Roland, by Edward Burne Joans  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/childe-roland-275343/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid
> 
> Mrs Box, by Donna Carrington  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/mrs-box-48252
> 
> On Death Part Two, Dead Mother, by Max Klinger  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/on-death-part-two-dead-mother-261949/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid
> 
> Cupid Delivering Psyche, by Edward Burne Joans  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/cupid-delivering-psyche-261935/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid
> 
> The Bazaar, Cairo by John Frederick Lewis  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/the-bazaar-cairo-275316/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid
> 
> Bubbles, Cottage Scene with Children, by John Dawson Watson  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/bubbles-cottage-scene-with-children-48317/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid
> 
> A Girl Drawing Water from a Stream, by William Leitch  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/a-girl-drawing-water-from-a-stream-275375/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid
> 
> New Lamps for Old, by Jospeh Southall  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/new-lamps-for-old-275348/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid
> 
> Fisher Girls On The Beach, by George Clausen  
> https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/fisher-girls-on-beach-275364/search/venue:the-higgins-bedford-3839/page/10/view_as/grid


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